The Quantum Error
by Rob Sears
Summary: Sam McLeod just had a bad day, but it is about to get even worse. When he becomes trapped inside another universe after a fateful decision, Sam is not elated at the second chance; he is horrified. With his entire world turned upside down, Sam has to adapt to his new climate and use his semi-good judgment for one purpose: to avoid getting involved with anything at any cost.
1. Chapter 1: Melancholia

" _I hate you!_ "

The savagery of the comment surprised me, to be honest. Before I could suitably respond though, I felt a cold and wet substance splash across my face as Elizabeth hurled her cocktail at me. My eyes and nostrils stung as the vodka from the Cosmo hit me square in the face and I rubbed at my eyes frantically to alleviate the burning sensation. Grabbing a napkin to dab the drink from me, I was still able to see through my blurry vision Elizabeth's outline as she surged out the door of the restaurant and into the street to be swallowed up into the crowd, having evacuated her seat across from me while I was distracted.

My face had been cleared at this point but my jacket had not evaded discoloration. The dress shirt beneath that was a lost cause, the white fabric stained a pinkish-red – already too saturated for me to hope to get it out in the wash. By now the entirety of the restaurant was probably looking in my direction – seeing as Elizabeth had fled, leaving me as the sole point of visual reference – but I ignored them. I continued wiping at my face and beard while also clumsily trying to mop up the worst of the stains from my jacket.

Well, this had gotten off to a great start already, right? Might as well order more obstacle for the dipshit Sam McLeod to overcome, seeing as though I was in a restaurant.

The waitress approached me, the lone bastard sitting at a table too large for one person, and with a pained face, asked me if I wanted to order. You know, that's probably a tough job, trying to follow up an awkward situation by simply performing the bare minimum of your duties. I bet that was not in her job description advertised on the internet. I just shook my head at her and she briskly departed, leaving me to reek of vodka and triple sec. In reality, the smell of lo mein and orange chicken (at least the whiffs that the booze did not overpower in the immediate area) from the other patrons around me was making my stomach rumble, but I was too preoccupied in thought to even consider eating right now. I just wanted to wallow in my hunger and solitude for a little bit longer.

If you were to ask me if sort of event was par for the course in my life, I would tell you immediately that it was not. Well…not all the time, at least. The point is, situations like this happen to me often enough that I should come to expect them and yet I am constantly let down with how reality treats me. It just so happens that I've been exposed to a lot of shit in my life that when things _do_ happen to go sour, I somehow am never taken as aback as you might expect.

Take tonight, for example. I should have seen the signs coming when Elizabeth invited me here, some wonky Asian fusion place in San Jose, for dinner. That was strike number one: we never eat anywhere relatively nice. The second strike came to me when Elizabeth, who was beaming at the time, revealed that she had accepted a job offer in Austin, Texas for a respectable software company. It was at this point when something clicked in my brain; that our relationship together was about to change dramatically tonight. Of course, it was all about how I would react that would determine our friendship terms between us. In hindsight, I reacted rather poorly.

Elizabeth was going on and on about how she was excited for the job and I was legitimately happy for her. I knew that she had been job hunting for months and I was glad that she managed to find something that catered to her interests. It was only when she turned the focus onto me did things get a little…troublesome, for lack of a better word. For a long time, I wished that Elizabeth would have never asked me the question that proceeded to derail everything.

"Will you come to Austin with me?"

That caused me to freeze up, partly in horror and partly in intense thought. In my head, the logistics of moving out to a different state were only part of the myriad issues. I was – _am_ \- currently enrolled in Stanford's sports medicine PhD program and I was really not keen at interrupting my studies to follow a girl and potentially jeopardize my own career. I know the movies make it seem like dropping everything for a woman is the best decision you could possibly ever make, but I'm afraid that reality is a little more complex than what a Hollywood writer would have you believe. At the time, I was already on my way to earning my master's degree "en route" and any interruptions could severely hamper my progress to earn it. I did voice this concern to Elizabeth and she had the breezy response that I could always transfer to the University of Texas and resume my studies there.

This is where things started to go wrong. You see, no one ever transfers _from_ Stanford - even if it's to the University of Texas – especially if you're in this program. Stanford is the university that continually effuses the most renowned doctors in the country and asking me to leave such a prestigious program is practically asking me to perform career suicide even before I've started working in an office. If I moved, I would have lost out on so many opportunities that could not be replicated over in Austin. Not to knock the University of Texas, but a doctorate is worth so much more (not just in the financial sense) if it has the word "Stanford" typed on the top in Old English Text.

People continually bemoan the struggles they face between their work life and family life. Until now, I had not really known how that felt. I also was curious that Elizabeth even gave me this "ultimatum" in the first place. Sure, we may have made a cute couple in the past year, but it seemed like we kept each other at arm's length most of the time. We did not talk as often as other couples did, we did not live together (the only times when we did sleep in the same room was when one of us came over to have sex, and even then the space was awkward between us), so I simply expected Elizabeth to just dump me outright in the restaurant instead of ask me to come with her once she had revealed her career plans to me. Perhaps _she_ should have seen this outcome occurring, come to think of it.

I know it seems heartless, choosing my career over a woman, but if you saw how little Elizabeth impacted me in my normal life, you would have seen this split coming from a mile away. I guess I just wanted to grease the gears on that front.

I did not try to explain my reasoning further. It was my understanding that she could infer the stakes on my end – perhaps if I had communicated them better to her, her reaction would not have been quite so violent. I just laid my hands on the table and refused her offer point-blank, without even attempting to soften the blow. Stupid move, I know, but the iceberg had already hit the ship in my head, so I was trying to scramble to the nearest lifeboat and escape the wreckage. Get it over with quick and clean, like ripping off a bandage.

When Elizabeth started to cry, my only reaction was to look around the restaurant and gauge how much attention we were drawing instead of trying to comfort her. I've only been empathetic to a few people in my life and Elizabeth, despite her being my girlfriend (for a few more minutes), has never been one of those people. I just felt myself getting more embarrassed from her blubbering as well as exasperated from her not being able to realize immediately that this relationship was not going to be salvaged. I did not feel that any of this was my fault; _she_ was the one who wanted to move to Austin in the first place. Through her tear-streaked eyes, she then spoke what would be the start of her final words to me, words that I will never forget for a long time.

"Do you even care about me?"

And then, in my arrogance, I responded, "I do care, Elizabeth. But you're just not important enough to me for me to care even more."

That was when she threw her drink in my face.

Now, as the booze dried on my shirt, I simply resorted to sitting still at my table, taking measured sips of my gimlet, while pondering if there was anything that I could have done that would have not caused such a sudden rift. After consuming half my drink though, I still had not been able to pinpoint any alternatives that I could have taken with my dialogue that would not have ended up in heartbreak. Even though I was hungry, I asked for the check, paid for the two drinks by credit card and signed "Sam McLeod" in my usual scrawl on the receipt. I could always grab something from my fridge back home. The hostess looked rather apologetic as I headed out into the entry hallway and I gave a grunt as she wished me a pleasant evening. How a restaurant host could fake such cheeriness for long periods of time was a skill that I could not even fathom.

I managed to catch sight of my reflection in the mirror while passing through the hallway and I took a moment to analyze my appearance. I let out a sigh; what with the red staining from Elizabeth's Cosmo on my shirt, it looked like I had just murdered someone. I brushed at my brown and bushy hair, praying that it would stay flat, as it tended to flip up a little in the front. I then ran my fingers through my thick beard, making sure that any alcohol had not dried on it and cause the strands to become sticky. With my facial hair, I probably looked five years older than the twenty-four I currently had on me. In my current getup, I looked considerably more dapper than I would in an ordinary setting, but the jacket did a very poor job of concealing my broad frame, giving me the appearance of a football player trying to go incognito. But with this red stain on my shirt mimicking the appearance of blood, I suppose I kind of fit the bill for a football player anyway.

As I exited the restaurant, I was greeted by a wave of heat and noise. It was only seven in the evening on a Saturday, which meant that it was practically peak hours for Santana Row. This was the fanciest shopping complex south of San Francisco and that, combined with the new school year just starting, meant that the streets were packed with people my age, using their Silicon Valley wealth to partake in the classy establishments while going for joyrides in their parents' electric vehicles. Elizabeth was long gone by now and ordinarily she would be able to distract me from the crowds and cause my anxiety to subside. I wondered if she would be all right after tonight. I had no ill will towards her as we did share some nice times together and I would never regret getting to know her a little better from our relationship. Perhaps I just was not the right match for her; it is perfectly normal for two people to gradually realize that they are incompatible together after a while. Happens all the time.

My agoraphobic tendencies were starting to perk up without a comforting presence by my side though, but fortunately I had the appropriate method to counter such feelings. From my breast pocket, I withdrew my trusty packet of cigarettes (Pall Malls – I could never resist American brands), as well as a stainless steel lighter. I hurriedly withdrew one of the cigarettes and proceeded to ignite the tip before I froze up in the middle of the sidewalk out of panic. Once I felt the warm smoke pour into my mouth, I gave a small smile as the faint tingle of nicotine began to itch at the back of my brain. I exhaled, blowing the smoke out in a fine cloud, barely taking stock of my surroundings before I raised my cigarette up for another drag.

I know what you're thinking. You're most likely mentally chastising me for smoking, a habit that is considered disgusting in this day and age, and that it should be fairly obvious that what I'm doing is tantamount to slowly killing myself. Well, fuck you for your opinion. This is a lifestyle choice, one that I'm not proud of where it happened to end up, but it happened anyway. Sometimes our paths in life take routes that lead us to dark places. Besides, after what will happen to me within the next hour or so, I will have bigger things to worry about than lung cancer. Hell, it could be worse – I could be a crack addict or an alcoholic. Gah, both alternatives sound terrible the more I think about them. In comparison, I'm actually quite _glad_ of where I ended up.

Finally moving with the flow of the crowd, I rudely shoved aside a group of tourists who were stupidly parked in the middle of the sidewalk, taking ridiculous pictures of themselves by holding their phones out on some sort of stick. Technology trends just get weirder and weirder, I tell you. I continued to smoke and contemplate my existence some more while I tried to rid my head of the memories of Elizabeth in some sort of frantic purge of unwanted mental files. Was I the cause of everything that transpired tonight? Or had things already been set in motion that I could not halt our break-up, no matter how hard I tried?

Fate surely was a fickle thing. For the life of me, I could not pinpoint if my behavior (somewhat unwarranted) was the catalyst for the rift or that Elizabeth and I naturally grew so far apart that we could no longer sustain a healthy relationship. Maybe at some point, I could have diverted my path and have wound up with a different result down the line, but it was too late right now to even remember what sort of decision could have turned me down a different road. What was done is done. I'm now back to resuming my ordinary bachelor life after this latest failure in a string of doomed friendships.

I took one last drag before I dropped my cigarette butt on the ground so that I could crush it out with my foot. I had reached the parking garage and found my car relatively easily. After clambering in, I spent a minute just staring out into space with my hands firmly clenched on the steering wheel, the key not even inserted.

 _You didn't even try, Sam_ , a voice in my head chastised. _You could have stopped her from leaving but you just let her go._

"I know," I muttered out loud as I finally turned the key in the ignition. The car hummed to life, its paltry hybrid engine producing a very feminine squeal instead of a throaty roar that is supposed to give us males a testosterone rush. "I know…"

I pulled my car out of the garage in relative silence and followed the signs so that I could get on the Interstate-280. It was a weekend, which meant that the traffic was proceeding at a fair pace when I would ordinarily be gridlocked into oblivion. That being said, by no means were the highways empty, but the vehicles currently traveling on it were moving just fast enough that I could settle into a comfortable pace and not have an inkling of annoyance impart on me.

Even though it was only a ten minute drive to my apartment and that it was not that late out, I felt my eyes begin to droop. I bit back a yawn and lazily used my arms to steer the car, barely noticing that it was wobbling within its lane. Truthfully, there comes many points in one's life where the unconscious thoughts residing in the deep cortex of the mind push themselves to the forefront, revealing the real monster locked away within. This happened to be one of those points. Needless to say, I was in a pretty bad place at the time and I willingly let the bad thoughts wash over me, spilling into my head and corrupting my purpose, desperate for rationalization from unlikely places.

If I am to be honest, I'm not what you call a happy person if you have not garnered that yet. Haven't been for years. A split like this might not have upset me in an external fashion, but it turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back for me in regards to my mental health. It was not from the departure of Elizabeth's presence that I bemoaned, but it was the knowledge that I was alone again for the umpteenth that despaired me so. Even though I lived by myself, it was still comforting to have the knowledge that there was someone out there who shared an intangible link between us. Boyfriend and girlfriend – two people who mutually agree to share a deeper than normal relationship with happiness being a key factor. _Happiness_ being the key word here. With Elizabeth being the latest splinter, the link simply had been shattered too many times for me to start caring anymore. It was back to the doldrums for me unless I did something about that before I could withdraw into a ball of isolation.

I began to count the light posts down from fifty as I drove down the highway in the slow lane. I could see their sickly orange glow from the sodium lamps reflecting onto my windscreen. It was weird, assigning numbers to what would ultimately be headstones. Very morbid thoughts from my end – someone who, in my own opinion, was still relatively sane. I still consider myself to be sane, just that I've been a witness to too much damage in this world. Maybe that was why I was now embracing this horrible urge to cut my story short right here on the highway. I've heard that this sensation, the desire to go through with such a fateful act, was known as the call of the void. Apparently it inflicts everyone within their lifetimes, being a perfectly normal experience for the average person, and it's only a scant few who decide to follow through with their inclinations.

I was one of those few that chose to be a statistic.

"Five…four…three…two…one…zero…," I counted out loud before I finally eyed the sturdy post less than a hundred feet away. Before I could even consider the ramifications of my actions, I gradually turned the steering wheel to the right – not a hard yank, but a deliberate tug. The chassis vibrated as the tires rolled over the rumble strip and I lined up the car so that my side of the vehicle lined up with the concrete base of the light post. I closed my eyes at this point, knowing that I had set everything in motion for this act of my life. I was milliseconds away from impact, but I still had time to exhale in relief. I was not nervous at all, but merely accepting of my fate. I at least hoped that I would not come to my senses in time for me to botch this all up. I then wished that Elizabeth would not take this personally and that she would be all right after this.

I heard a crunching noise and then silence.

 _Happy trails, Sam._

* * *

Someone once said that death is the road to awe, that it is a relatively peaceful transition from one world to the next. All you had to do was follow the light and let it wash over you.

Obviously the person who originally came up with that had never died before, because I was not awed at the moment, nor was there any light. Well, specifically there was no singular light that gave me any indication that I should be heading towards it, for I was surrounded in all directions, even downward, by tiny pinpricks that looked like stars. I say downward in relative terms because all I could perceive was the sensation of floating, like I was suspended in a void – or space itself, considering the "stars" surrounding me.

I could not see my body, nor could I change my course while suspended in this weightless state. I simply floated, feeling rather comfortable as I did so but also slightly disappointed as well. Was this the afterlife? There were no pearly gates that I remembered passing through nor did I recall shaking hands with the big man of the house. This was not heaven, but nothing that I could see (or _couldn't_ see) gave me the impression that I was in hell, either. Not that I felt that my actions in the past warranted my placement in hell, but I saw nothing that Dante described in his _Inferno_ that remotely resembled what that unfortunate realm looked like. So if I wasn't in heaven or hell, then where the fuck am I? This whole afterlife thing is such a rip-off!

Fortunately, I was given little time to wallow in my confusion, as I felt a distant buzzing deep in my ears which began to irritate me. The sensation expanded and began to push on my eardrums just like if I was in a pressurization chamber and I yawed my jaw around to adjust to the feeling. My ears popped and that signaled another change. I felt a sucking sensation of my chest and I had the crazy idea that I was being rendered inside out. I could see if anything was physically happening to my body, but I could definitely tell that something weird was going on as a pit began to expand in my lungs, drawing my breath out through my lungs.

Just then, I felt my legs being yanked down suddenly and violently, and the entire expanse seemed to explode as the stars swirled around overhead. I could see that I was moving but there was no air hitting my face to denote that I was actually traveling or if my plane of existence was traveling around me.

I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.

* * *

The first thing I noticed was a pain in my chest. Like…almost as if my chest was on fire. Yeah, no…this really did hurt. I think my chest _was_ on fire. I mean, this really, really, really fucking _hurt!_ What the literal fuck?!

Finally drawing enough breath, I pushed it out of my lungs as hard as I could and I was rewarded by the noise of my own shout of pain. My back spasmed and I sat up automatically, opening my eyes that I had not realized had been closed this entire time. Bright white light poured into my eyes and I tried to cry out in agony again, but all I could seem to muster was some sort of a pained gurgle. Blinking my eyelids did absolutely nothing to ease the pain and it was only when I felt the sensation of a hand gently but firmly pushing my upper torso back down did I realize that I was not alone.

"… _ake! He's awake!"_ A female voice was shouting. _"Strap him down before he causes any additional internal damage immediately!_ "

"What – the – fuck?" I groaned as I mentally begged for my vision to clear. All I could see were shadowy shapes moving in front of a blinding white background. I bucked against my restraints, trying to break free, but I was constantly held down despite my efforts. My chest still felt like it was burning and now another pain in my abdomen decided to join the fun and flare up, causing me to yelp.

"Repeat!" the female voice said loudly. "Patient has gained consciousness at 0320 hours. Arrhythmia has settled and wound has been stabilized. Vitals settling down into normal ranges."

Patient? Arrhythmia? Wound? What kind of shit was going on here? Did I happen to spectacularly fuck up my suicide, the one thing that I told myself that I would _not_ fuck up? This was just fucking _perfect!_ If this was indeed the case and I was in fact not dead, then I would have to contend to be confined to a painful recovery from all of the bones I knowingly broke (I was amazed that I was not in a body cast at this point, actually), completely empty out my insurance policy which would mean that I would be rendered broke from the hospital bills, and I would also be committed to mental therapy because I tried to kill myself. That was the American healthcare system for you; your life may be saved but you'll be bent over with gusto from the amount of bills heaped onto you. For god's sake, I might as well do the bending myself and spread my cheeks so that my insurance provider could rape me with debt. It's not like I was particularly wealthy so I had basically no chance of paying any of this off. With this knowledge, I was statistically likely to attempt to off myself again just to avoid paying anything at all.

With a grimace, I squinted my eyes and was rewarded as the white veil was finally pulled back. I was in a snow-colored room – obviously part of a hospital – and I immediately noticed a gaggle of doctors standing around me. I was lying on some sort of bench or a gurney – I couldn't tell which – and I also happened to notice that I was bare-chested based on the bone-chilling air wafting onto my skin, causing prickles to rise. My movements seemed rather slow and sluggish and it took a great effort for me to even tilt my head down – the slight movement causing me to gasp in a combination of exhaustion in pain. It was then that I wished I had not looked at all.

From my perspective I was first able to see the tattoos that had adorned my body, noticing that they were remarkably intact from surviving a car crash. The black circle comprised of bars arranged in a maze-like structure over my heart was still there, as were the tribal patterns wreathed around my upper arm and forearm on opposite sides of my body. For the most part, I could tell that my ribcage was not crushed from a steering column being pushed into it, nor were my legs shattered from the car's engine block being displaced into that space. Those were the wounds that I was expecting so it was understandable that I was confused at my apparent lack of significant injuries to those areas. In contrast, the pain did not feel as bad as I would have figured until I finally did notice that my entire lower torso was completely covered in blood.

"Jesus…" I muttered as the bright redness burned into my retinas. "Jesus Christ."

"Sir?" an olive-faced woman – ostensibly a doctor - bent down to my level, her face lined with concern. "Mr. McLeod, can you hear me?"

"What…" I managed to get out as I laid my head back down, "…what happened…to me? The car…it…"

The doctor looked confused at my rambling statement. "Car? Mr. McLeod, there was no car. Are you aware of what happened to you, sir? Is your name Sam McLeod?"

"Yes…" I hissed in pain to both questions, dimly hearing the rest of the doctors chatter on about my vitals in the background. "Accident…on highway…" I fumbled at the right phrase to say – something that would get the suspicion off of me and would delay me from suicide therapy. That was something I was determined to avoid at any cost. "Drank…too much…at dinner. Fell asleep…at wheel…"

Either the doctor could see through my paltry lies or something was very wrong because her confusion did not go away one bit. "I'm – I'm sorry sir, but you're not making any sense. You were not in a vehicle accident. You were not found near any transportation lanes at all. You were found in an alley, sir, and we picked you up from the third level near the Armax Arsenal. Don't you remember?"

Okay, now I was hopelessly lost. How could they tell me to my face that I was not in a vehicle accident? I vividly remember crashing the fucking _car_ , for Christ's sake! And what the fuck was the Armax Aresnal, some kind of gun shop? And…and I was found in an alley?! What?! _What?!_

"Where…am I?" I coughed out way more calmly than what my internal thoughts were indicating.

"Citadel District Hospital Four," the doctor said fluidly. "You're in Operating – we had to restart your heart when your beating became erratic. We almost lost you, sir."

This was still making no sense whatsoever. I had never even heard of this Citadel District Hospital Four before. I still remembered the general area where I deliberately crashed which meant that I should be in _El Camino_ Hospital just off the 85 highway, not in whatever they said this place was. Was this some private clinic that happened to be more local?

"What happened…to me?" I asked again, now desperate for answers. "How badly am…am I hurt?"

"Your injuries were substantial, but treatable. There was no head trauma so you should not be experiencing any memory loss right now. You had a gunshot wound to the abdomen and-"

Wait…what did she just say?!

Incredulous, I instinctively used my arms to lift my torso up but at the same time, a blast of pain exploded from my body. It did not come from my chest, limbs, but from my abdomen – just as the doctor said. Incredibly, that was the only place that I was wounded for there were no other injuries that had accumulated on my body. Through the blood that stained my skin, I could indeed see a hole just above my stomach surrounded by bright white, freshly healing skin. It was the size of a dime and it wept fluid in a slow leak, not a gushing torrent, but it was the fact that there was a hole in my body to begin with that distressed me so. These were not injuries consistent with a freeway accident. No crash survivors came into operating rooms with just a gunshot to their torso.

What the fuck was happening to me?

One of my arms slipped and I fell backward on the bench heavily, my breathing now restricted to wheezes. I blinked several times as the room spiraled above me. I felt faint and my skin began to grow clammy.

"Damn it!" a high pitched voice said as a figure raced over to one of the panels next to my bench. "His heart rate's spiking! Shock is beginning to take hold again!"

I could not see the person who was currently speaking and it was only when one of the doctors around me moved a little bit did I let out a squawk of alarm. The person who had just spoke was not at all someone I could describe as human – even in my deranged state. For a moment, I had the inane thought that a cosplayer was moonlighting as a doctor in this wacky hospital, but it was only through the man's organic and seamless movements did I realize that I was not staring at a costume but an actual _person_. Their body contours were too thin – way too thin to be a human and they only had three fingers on their hands. At least, that was all I could notice just from their sterile gloves that they wore. But it was their head that gave it away that I was dealing with something else completely nonhuman. It was a skinny head that possessed a flat nose with just tiny holes for nostrils, a wide mouth with flat teeth, and twin horns positioned just above their wide, yet expressionless eyes.

Even though the sight of this person was shocking, I could not help but find a dose of familiarity in the man's appearance. I felt that I had somehow seen this sort of species before, but I could not put my finger on how. Despite all that, I imagine that I had to look pretty freaked out by this point.

With a shaking finger, I pointed it at the mutated freak at the side of my bench. "What…what…what is that?" I croaked out, my lips completely stumbling over my words as they began to grow numb.

The female doctor took a nonchalant glance back at the thing (for lack of a better term) and did not seem fazed in the slightest. "That?" she replied coolly. "That is Doctor Trexa, our salarian xenomedicine expert." She then tried to push me down again. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remain calm. Slow your breathing and focus on my voice."

Remain calm? How could she think that was possible after confronting me with all of this? I could still hear her words in my head. _Salarian. Xenomedicine_. Where had I heard the word salarian before? Was she expecting me to believe that there was another species working in a hospital? What kind of fool did she take me for-

But then it hit me. It was the second term that caught me off guard way more than the first. Xenomedicine. I knew that xeno was a prefix that related to foreigners - xenophobia was the fear of foreign people, for example – but why would that term be applicable in a hospital setting? After all, a hospital only treated humans so there should be no distinction between operating on human patients unless the xeno term referred to…aliens.

Oh my god…no, it could not be. Surely not. Was the doctor telling me that this salarian was, in fact, an _alien?_ And why was this fact still so goddamn familiar to me? Was I going insane? Was this one of those circles of hell?

I believe that it was my hysterical laughter that brought upon the ending of my discoveries for the time being. I just could not help it. Everything just seemed so damn funny that I started to laugh and could not stop. The woman that was holding me down made a noise of frustration and grunted as she tried to prevent my badly twitching body from falling off the bench.

"Something's wrong!" she shouted. "He's becoming incoherent!"

"It's…just too much," I babbled, now fully lost to this torrid whirlpool that I was now trapped in. "Crash first…then get shot…s'all fucked, I'm telling you. Need to wake…from this dream. Wake me up…please, god damn it! Wake me…"

"It's no use!" Trexa pointed at me. "Sedate him right now! Give him 12 ccs of Propofol before he causes further harm to himself!"

That was the best idea I had heard thus far, even if it did come from an alien's mouth. "Yes!" I indicated with a frantic bobbing of my head. "Do it, please! Sedate me! That will end it! Put me to sleep, goddammit! I don't care anymore, just give it to me right fucking now!"

"Sir!" the woman said loudly. "Please calm down! Just relax and let the medicine do its work."

"I will relax once you-!" I halted mid-sentence as my eyelids drooped unexpectedly. " _Oh_ ," I muttered as I raised my right hand, where I had not noticed before that an IV tube had been strapped to the back of it, running towards a bag that another doctor was currently injecting the contents of a syringe into. It felt like sacks of bricks had been nailed to my eyelids, weighing them down, and I felt my head hit the bench, already experiencing the sensation of floating away once more – this time a little more intensely.

"Careful…fellas," I blathered, the words spilling out of my mouth. "It's my…first time."

And then I mercifully blacked out, the nightmare having run its course.

 _You're down the rabbit-hole now, Sam,_ the little voice taunted.

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah, I know what you're thinking: "Aw, crap, not another self-insert story! We've already got a ton of those on this site! How can this one be any different?"**

 **All valid points, I am aware. The distinction is that while many of those SI stories tend to focus on someone adding themselves to the canon of another universe, what I'm going to do is ensure that the protagonist of this story, Sam, does not play such a vital role in the actual Mass Effect canon. What I'm doing, essentially, is creating a self-contained story that revolves around Sam only and none of the characters from the crew of the Normandy. That means that Sam will** _ **not**_ **get involved with the arcs of the games, he will** _ **never**_ **step foot on the Normandy, and because he's only a medical student, he will** _ **not**_ **automatically pursue the role of a soldier simply to fit the militaristic atmosphere of the games. While there may be a few cameos from familiar faces in this story, the focus is all going to be on Sam and how he resolves to live his new life in a different universe without getting heavily involved in the war in the beginning.**

 **In fact, I really don't consider the protagonist of Sam McLeod to be much of a self-insert character at all. Compared to me, our backstories are totally different, we look nothing alike, he smokes (I don't), and Sam will make some decisions throughout the narrative that I would never make if I was given a similar choice. Hell, the only thing that he and I do share is a sardonic sense of humor and even then, Sam's personality is way more hostile than mine (as evidenced by his verbal attacks on the audience, even in this first chapter). This is all my intent to create a completely original character and give him some flaws so that he seems as realistic of a person as possible. He's a man with issues and I'm basically making his day worse by putting him in a "fish out of water" scenario in order to see how he copes.**

 **The reason why I'm writing this story at all is twofold. Firstly, I want to experiment with a first-person point of view, as it's something I have not tried before. This gives me many opportunities to inject personal voice into the actual writing, which will help the audience get to know the character of Sam a little better and perhaps introduce some dry humor into the mix. Secondly, I want to actually create an original main character who isn't written like complete crap like a few of my attempts in the past. I'm using the protagonist from my own** _ **For Her**_ **trilogy as my direct comparison because I'm quite open in my contempt for those stories. One of the biggest problems that I had, looking back, was that the protagonist in the** _ **For Her**_ **trilogy was just agonizingly** _ **boring**_ **. He had no substantial flaws, nor was he particularly likable, and I feel that he was one of the worst characters that I've ever created simply because he was as bland as tofu.** _ **The Quantum Error**_ **is my own way of performing a take two, to try to prove to myself that I** _ **can**_ **create an original character that is at least fractionally interesting this time around and not a literal walking Ambien. I'm leaving it up to you, the audience, to tell me if I'm succeeding or not.**

 **Another thing I want to mention is that I'm going to try to not cram this story chockful of throwaway references to popular or obscure franchises willy-nilly. If I do reference them, then I want them to feel natural. I don't want to have the final result look like Ernest Cline's _Armada_ story (a recent novel that got absolutely trashed for having a bunch of references to other works sloppily placed in the narrative) so I will try to be conscious of what content I place. I know that it's alluring for other authors to point out their inspirations like call-outs, but I want to treat this as seriously as possible.**

 **To be honest, I'm not going to enter a fixed chapter production schedule right away, as I'm currently trying to work out a few tidbits in my personal life, so writing will have to take a backseat for a bit. I just was intrigued about this first chapter that I wanted to put it to paper (figuratively speaking) and gauge the reactions amongst the audience. I'm still burned out from my** _ **last**_ **story, actually, so I'm not really in the best of shape to begin writing again, but I assure you that, depending on how this initial offering is received, I will return and resume working on it at some point.**

 **But with that being said, I would like to know what you think of** _ **The Quantum Error**_ **so far. I encourage you to leave your thoughts so that I know what pitfalls I need to avoid for this type of story or if you happen to like what I'm doing with the characters and want to see more. I've still got some life left in me, so let's see what we can come up with!**

 **I hope you enjoy** _ **The Quantum Error**_ **.**

 **-Rob Sears**


	2. Chapter 2: Rate Your Pain

Being in a hospital is always a disconcerting experience. These facilities seem to radiate an air of uneasiness and dread despite their reputation for healing people. Maybe it's just the always present scent of cleaning products that is used to mask the smell of blood and dying patients that always manages to bring a sickening sensation to my stomach. Ironic, considering my current career path to get a doctorate in medicine.

But can you blame me? No one goes to hospitals unless something bad happens to them – which is probably where the negative stigma comes from. The last time I was in one for an injury was when I broke my arm playing flag football in junior high and that had been an unpleasant experience to begin with. Now instead of having to contend with a cast, I was sitting upright in a soft chair with my lower torso completely bandaged up with a few sparse blood stains beginning to seep through the gauze that had been applied to a gunshot wound, one that I miraculously and inexplicably happened to acquire after I deliberately crashed my car onto the highway in another city, another planet, and another time entirely. There were also two red marks on my chest that looked like an incredibly specific sunburn from the electric paddles that the staff had applied in order to stabilize my heartbeat. If you're confused as to how all of this happened, don't try to press me for questions because I sure as shit don't have any answers.

The nurse had put up some X-rays of my injury up on a television screen of some sort – a piece of technology that looked to possess a much higher resolution than the screens one would see in an regular electronics store. Perhaps this was an organic-LED screen? I'm afraid I'm not always up to date on current technology trends to give an appropriate analysis on that front. In any case, the X-rays showed a bunch of torn fat and muscle near my entry wound where the bullet had presumably hit me, but the slide next to it showed the extent of how the doctors were able to repair it. I was shocked at the difference. Usually a wound like this would have required plastic surgery and perhaps tissue grafts to reconstruct the ravaged tissue but it looked like everything had been stitched back together immaculately. This was the sort of thing that would take months to heal properly and yet the slides showed that the amazing progress had occurred only after a few hours. Hell, if what the X-rays showed was any indication, I was going to walk away from this with only a scar. Lucky me.

That was basically the extent of how the analytical portion of my brain was working – finding comfort in the familiar, medical procedures being the case. The _logical_ portion of my brain however, was all out of whack. I mean, how can one explain that they tried to commit suicide in one universe and in the next moment, they woke up – alive - in another? I wondered if I had only hallucinated the car crash and the events leading up to that moment. But if that was the case, then why can I still vividly remember my life all before that? I can still recall Elizabeth throwing her drink in my face, graduating from high school, making love for the first time, all of it! Was my entire life an entire lie and was this the real world, or had I gone completely bonkers?!

At least I was not in much pain. All the bandages were doing were effectively restricting my torso movement. There was only minor throbbing down near my wound and apparently very little blood was weeping from what the doctors were not able to seal. All things considered, I was rather spry from getting shot in the gut.

"…Effectively, your personal shields managed to absorb the brunt of the kinetic energy which explains why you were not blown apart from the gun blast, but your small intestine was relatively traumatized from the discharge. We sealed all the tears with medi-gel and it has appeared to have healed nicely. Our only concern is…"

The nurse was still droning on about my healing process but I could only manage mindless nods – half listening to her queries. She did not seem to be in on any sort of joke and was taking my presence here rather seriously. Unless this was an elaborate and cruel reality show, it did not seem like the nurses were intentionally tormenting me. Plus, I still remember that I had been referred to by name before I was sedated, which meant that my presence here was already established before my consciousness decided to inhabit this universe. Christ, this was confusing.

Then there were these nonsensical words that the nurse was using in her diagnosis. Personal shields. Medi-gel. I mean, what the hell was medi-gel? And what did she mean by personal shields? So am I to assume that my body somehow is outfitted with shields that can deflect gunfire at any time? Is that a thing in this universe? And medi-gel, is that some sort of be-all-end-all sort of substance that heals all tissue instantaneously? From what the nurse was spouting, it sure sounded like that.

The door to my room opened and another nonhuman walked in with a bundle of clothes. I was still a little groggy from just having woken up half an hour ago so I don't think that my face showed much surprise when confronted with a new humanoid species, but my heart still gave a noticeably jolt nonetheless. This being actually could have passed for a human – or more precisely, a human in an elaborate costume – but like that salarian before, I somehow knew that this was definitely another alien. She had deep blue skin that was scaly like a snake's and a very human face with recognizable features. The top of her head, however, was crested with wavy ridges that seemed to be made out of a rigid cartilage instead of any hair. Come to think of it, apart from eyelashes, the alien had no external fur that I could see. The name for this species popped into my head without anyone in the room making an indication of what exactly this new arrival was: an _asari_.

I think that while I was out, I had subconsciously managed to make the connection of where I truly was, despite my disorientation. The words and terms were now flowing through my head as if a faucet had sprung a leak and I was unable to plug it. Salarians. Medi-gel. Asari. Citadel. I was now starting to recognize everything – which was weird because I _knew_ these elements beforehand. All were instrumental components of a video game that I used to play a few years ago called _Mass Effect_. Fun game with a decent story, not my favorite, but perfect for killing a few hours each day. It was still memorable enough that I could recall the majority of the key points of those three games, but I did not have the capacity to consider them in depth right about now. But apparently I had an idea of where I was, even though this sort of thing was impossible to achieve in the literal sense – if I was to take this at face value. Regardless of how it happened, I guess I had no choice but to accept that I was now stuck in the universe of a video game world.

I should be excited, right? People play video games all the time in order to immerse themselves into a different world so an experience like this should be savored, not shunned. That may be true, but let me point something out: I never wanted to be here in the first place. I wanted to kill myself, right? So, why should I be happy in any capacity that my life had not come to an end yet, especially in such a foreign place?

Wow, that sounds dark when I say things like that out loud. Oh well, it needed to be said anyway.

The asari handed me the bundle of clothes with a cheery smile. "Here you are, Mr. McLeod," she beamed. "These are for you to keep. I'm sorry to say that the clothes that you were wearing previously are now a lost cause. What your blood did not ruin, our doctors did when they had to cut them off of you."

"Thanks…I think," I muttered as I shrugged off the hospital gown and slipped on a pair of loose fitting pants followed by an oversized shirt and slippers. I now looked like a doofus but it was better than walking around naked.

"But these we found in your pocket," the asari held out a plastic bag with a few items inside. "They were the only personal effects that we were able to recover."

I took the bag and opened it. Inside it was just a silver lighter and a packet of cigarettes – an unknown brand. That's weird – I guess my old habits transferred over to this universe somehow. I put the items in my pocket.

"That's it?" I asked.

"That's all we found," the asari nodded. "You did not have a credit chit on you, though, which is suspect but not completely out of the ordinary."

What the hell was a credit chit? I'm assuming that I was supposed to care about its loss, considering the asari taking the time to reference its supposed disappearance. Did she mean a credit card or something along those lines? That was probably the closest thing relatable to whatever a chit was. I could always cancel my chit if it actually was stolen.

Oh great, now I'm starting to immerse myself already. I'm considering financial alternatives based on the fact that I might have lost an item that I never knew I owned in the first place! Fuck, I don't even know how to deal with banks in the future, so why was I thinking about this!? I could hardly make sense of my own finances back in the present! Did I even have money, or an account? Do I still have my 401k, for crying out loud?

The human nurse shut down the screen and now walked over to me with what looked like a tablet computer – only the screen was a monochrome blue. "If you'll just sign here, Mr. McLeod. That will notify your insurance provider and they will take care of all the expenses."

I didn't even want to ask how much such a procedure of repairing my abdomen would cost, so I didn't. Hell, I didn't even know who my insurance provider _was_ at this moment – at least not in this place. But apparently that knowledge was known to the staff here at the hospital so I figured that it was better to let them do their shtick and I'll eventually find out the information for myself. When in doubt, shut your fucking mouth.

I signed the form but held up a hand to stop the nurse before she left. "You said before…that I was found shot in an alley," I said, the words feeling numb on my lips. "Do you know why I was shot in the first place?"

The nurse gave a sad look. "You're not sure?"

"Pretty sure I'm not sure." Oh yeah, I'm pretty damn sure that I would have remembered that. "Isn't this a police matter – me being shot?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," the nurse sighed. "You see, C-Sec has a lot on its plate to deal with and a human surviving a gunshot is not at the top of their list right about now, unless they knew who assaulted them. An officer was actually in the room when you were revived, but you were so incoherent that he could not get an official statement from you. Also, the fact that you are unable to remember anything is a common side effect of a traumatic event – acute short-term amnesia. You seem to possess some of the symptoms which could make following up on your case rather difficult."

She didn't even know the half of it. I happened to have amnesia of getting shot, yes, but I don't really think that counts when I've had this entire out-of-body experience. It was not like I could mention this predicament either which would only result in me getting held in this hospital for a ton of mental tests to be run in order to determine if, in fact, I was still sane. No thank you. I wanted out of this place right now and I voiced that to the human nurse.

"No problem," she said cheerily. "The paperwork has gone through and you can be officially discharged at your convenience."

"Thanks for…for saving my life," I said, mainly out of courtesy but it still felt really awkward regardless.

"We're just doing our job. We're just glad that we can help those who need urgent care."

Yeah right. I bet they're just glad that I can pay the bill. Where else does their income come from?

"So…" I said awkwardly. "Am I okay…I mean, is it fine for me to walk?"

"That depends. How do you feel when you walk?"

I stood up, expecting to experience a slew of dizziness and nausea, but my legs did not feel stiff, nor did my wound hurt so much. I gave my feet a few test kicks and stretched as far as I could reasonably go without agony before I gave a shrug.

"I feel fine, actually."

The nurse beamed. "Then you may leave whenever you like, Mr. McLeod."

"Thanks again, ma'am," I said, a little more graciously this time.

I turned to the door to leave, smacking my carton of cigarettes into my palm as I did so. Before I headed through the sliding door, I looked over my shoulder back at the asari. "When you said…that my credit chit had been missing. Do you think…that I was mugged for it?"

The asari gave a helpless shrug. "I'm not really sure, Mr. McLeod. It would seem like a good conclusion, given the fact that you were wounded and that it is missing. If that was the only article of value that was removed from your person then that could be a valid hypothesis. If you want to declare it missing, you can find a C-Sec officer near the security counter on your way out." The asari gave a tiny shrug – very human expression – as she sought to change the subject. "Do you need an escort to the exit? This hospital can be confusing sometimes for new patients."

"No…no, it's fine," I mumbled and headed into the hallway. "I bet that I can find it by myself."

They didn't insist and I was surprised. Most hospitals would usually press the point of wheeling their patients out to the exit instead of letting them stumble around; partly as a safety regulation and partly to keep appearances that patients are never really cured until they leave the premises. I was no longer groggy from the sedative and my wound was cooperating rather nicely (the worst sensation was a little stiffness in my stomach if I breathed in too hard, but that was the extent of my pain) so I felt that I could get myself out of here on my own two legs. I'm fiercely independent that way; never have liked others doing things for me that I know I could do myself.

The white from the hallway was blinding initially. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made up of a smooth tile and doctors, nurses, and patients bustled around the corridor looking way busier than I was, so I made a point to keep to the side and out of their path. Fortunately, the signs for the exit were clearly marked with bright arrows and it was a cinch to find the lobby – despite the asari's statements. I managed to spot the C-Sec counter on the leftmost side between a pair of smooth round pillars near the check-in desk, but I trudged past it, still managing to take note of the salarian that seemed bored behind his post. He wore a set of gray armor, shiny and unmarred; nothing at all like the types of armor or uniforms that most soldiers wore in 2015. I made a mental note to check the date when I had the chance; I needed to know what had progressed in whatever timespan had elapsed.

I was beginning to accept the ludicrousness of the situation at this point and I thought that I would be able to handle, with some dignity, any more surprises that would come my way. Turns out, my confidence was again shattered the instant the doors to the hospital opened for me to enter the maze beyond.

I have seen dense crowds before but my paltry mind could not handle such an influx of foreign sights and sounds that I did not notice that I had frozen in the middle of the doorway. Wherever this was, it was completely _unreal_. Humans mingled in with a horde of what could only continue to be described as aliens. Tall, raptor-like aliens. Huge and lumbering aliens. There were even aliens that looked like enlarged jellyfish. All of this was in the middle of what could only be described as Times Square meets an acid trip. I mean, I'm talking about huge holographic signs in neon colors projecting advertisements for off-the-wall products mixed with the smell of new and remarkable foodstuffs that filled my nostrils, causing me to begin salivating. Even the architecture was different than what I was used to; smooth contours with shiny tiles and translucent glass coating the walls. It was indeed straight out of science-fiction.

Brave new world, eh?

Clutching my packet of cigarettes for assurance, I stumbled around, my eyes racing around the hallway trying to take in everything at once. I was whirling around in circles in stupid hospital clothes, looking very much like a dementia patient, although I was not really aware of my appearance at this time. I suppose I only looked more ridiculous when I came up to a full-size window at the edge of a crowded pathway and had the unfortunate timing to take a casual glance outside, only come to a full stop in the middle of the avenue. Let's just say that I was not fully prepared for this revelation, either.

"Fuck me," I mumbled at the infinite beyond. "I'm in space."

Indeed I was. Unless there was a way to fake the periwinkle colored nebula wisps, the collection of ships buzzing about what looked like an enormous space station, and the glint of the stars that managed to penetrate the gaseous clouds of hydrogen particles, then there was no other conclusion that would convince me otherwise. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was starting to recall that the Citadel _was_ in fact a space station in those video games that I had played – a location that I had now inexplicably ended up in. So, I now had a firm idea of where I was in this screwed up universe. Was I reassured? Nope. I was still completely disoriented.

I scratched at my beard in contemplation as I leaned against a railing for support. Back in the universe where I should have died, space travel was a luxury afforded to either the bravest and the most qualified, or the super-rich. Now I was one of millions, it seemed like, who wandered about the Citadel like this was just a gigantic shopping mall. Space travel was apparently effortless here and I was not really unique in leaving my home planet. It seemed like I was the only person who actually seemed shocked about not being chained to a celestial body, but considering my current mindset I was one of those lucky few that got this chance for such an experience.

Damn, I needed a minute. This constant stream of discoveries was bewildering me something badly. I was liable to have a panic attack if I didn't sit down in the next minute.

Fortunately there was a bench nearby for such an occasion so I claimed that in a hurry. I reclined and openly sighed, finding my new position to be somewhat relaxing. I relegated myself to people-watching, trying to get used to the idea that I was now in the midst of aliens all around me, the names of which were starting to become familiar again. Turian. Asari. Quarian. Salarian. Krogan. I was impressed at myself for being able to rattle off those names from memory. You never know just what is buried in the deep layers of the cerebral cortex.

Of course, I had to wonder what this all meant, me being here. Was there something of greater purpose that required my intervention in this universe or was it simply by accident that I was here in the first place? Surely this couldn't be heaven as I'm almost positive one doesn't enter that domain after getting shot and revived in a hospital – it just didn't make sense. My own hypothesis was that I was in a coma back on Earth, having somehow survived my car crash, and that I was hallucinating this entire sequence of events while lying on a sterile bed in a hospital strictly run by humans and humans only. But if I was hallucinating, then shouldn't my acknowledgement of said hallucination cause the entire dream to rip itself apart simply from the questioning of logic? I decided not to dwell on it too much – I already had a nasty headache as it was and any further aggravation would simply increase my rate of descent into madness. I did not want _that_ outcome to occur just yet.

But, hallucination or not, what was the point of me being here, in the _Mass Effect_ universe? I mean, if I had a choice of where to travel, this would not have even reached my personal top five picks for a potential location. This franchise essentially depicted a universe unknowingly on the verge of a holocaust (that part I remember just fine) so I knew that a few trillion people were going to die soon from the arrival of a genocidal machine race, the exact time entirely dependent on what point of the timeline I was inserted in. You see, I'm not really a big fan of the doom-and-gloom sort of franchise. There's not that much longevity for someone like me in a place like this. I would much rather have been in a franchise like…say, _Firefly_. I've always had a thing for westerns and I would join up with those Browncoats in a heartbeat just to wear one of those stylish dusters, never mind my complete lack of combat experience – in any form. Shit, I would also have wanted to be in the _Star Wars_ universe as well instead of _Mass Effect_. _Star Wars_ has lightsabers and the Force, what does _Mass Effect_ have to offer that could top that? I have no idea how to handle a sword or a gun in a trying situation, but nixing those little quibbles, wouldn't that just be plain cool? I'm just saying… _lightsabers_.

But I was in the Mass Effect universe regardless, dressed like a resident of a senior living home, completely lightsaber-less, with no fucking clue on where to go _and_ I couldn't even share this experience or relate it to anyone else! Even if I did find a way back home to my time, who could I tell this story to and have them believe me? Why couldn't I have shared in this experience with someone else, for crying out loud? I'd prefer that my sister, Taylor, would be with me as _she_ was the one who played these games the most. She'd be the only person that I could trust in completely; she'd believe me in a heartbeat for that was how close we were as siblings. I'd even go so far as to say that she was a bigger nerd than I was (she would be flattered at me admitting that, believe me.)

Taylor was two years older than me, but we were fairly inseparable throughout our childhood. She was my height, brown eyes, wavy brown hair, and a great smile (it was only through the grace of genetics did she happen to turn out to be gorgeous, technically speaking – completely making that cliché null and void). We had the same interests and friend groups. Both of us were on the debate team and honors students in high school. All of my friends wanted to date her and there was so much interest on her end that my friends anointed me to be her unofficial spokesperson to see if she was currently taken or not (Taylor never dated guys for very long). It got a little exasperating, me practically filtering Taylor's social life, but I always maintained a glib attitude about it around her, something that she would always react with amusement to. Yeah, I really wish that Taylor was with me now.

Smiling, I rustled up my sleeves, exposing my arm tattoos, and brought out my cigarettes and lighter now that my headache had subsided a bit. I had barely lit the tip of the damn thing when someone broke out from the crowd and headed my way – a salarian, to my surprise.

"Excuse me, sir?" the salarian said politely. "I'm afraid there's no smoking on this level. You'll have to go to one of the designated areas on the station if you're going to do that."

I believe my expression was one of disgust and amazement at this point. Apparently the Citadel frowned down on smokers – which is probably a good thing in hindsight – but at the moment I was craving a cigarette something fierce, nor did I have any idea where the designated smoking areas were. In my mind, that salarian had some balls to come up to someone like me and bluntly request that I cease in my addicting habits. I know I'm not the strongest man in the world but the notion that I could snap the salarian's thin frame in half for someone like me did not seem all that unlikely.

With my opened cigarette box in one hand and the lighter in another, I made sure to fixate the alien with all of the incredulity that I could muster. At least, I hoped I looked particularly nasty. " _Fuck off_ ," I muttered as I expelled a slight puff of smoke.

The salarian seemed miffed and edged away with a look of revulsion. I didn't care. I was not in the mood for any accommodations. I had a fucking hole in my stomach that was just repaired hours ago and I'm in the middle of the biggest fish-out-of-water scenario that anyone could ever dream up so all I wanted was to deal with this quietly, by myself, and in peace. I also wanted a goddamn smoke, was that too much to ask?!

I had only dealt with a quarter of the cigarette before another shadow fell over me once again. I looked up midway from a drag and now saw that another alien, decked out in some kind of smooth combat armor, was standing just a foot away from me. This alien was a turian, I believe, based on its avian features, mottled skin, and spiky head crests. It also did not look pleased, to say the least.

"And you are?" I grumbled as I took the cigarette out of my mouth.

"C-Sec, sir," the turian said with an air of authority. Guess this was the closest thing to a police officer on the Citadel. "We've received a complaint from a citizen about a human smoking in a public corridor. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to cease otherwise you'll be levied with a fine."

I was disobedient up to a certain point and arguing with public servants was as far as I went with acting like an ass. Don't get me wrong, I still didn't like it, but at least this turian had the grace to warn me of my breaking the law before slapping a citation on me.

"Fucking Gestapo," I mumbled as I ground the cigarette out with my slipper before I flicked it into a nearby trashcan.

"What was that, sir?" the turian gave me a hard look.

"Nothing," I hastily replied. "Nothing at all." Perhaps the turian had not fully heard me or he just did not understand what the word "Gestapo" meant. I was going to have to be careful with my references when dealing with aliens. I guess that it would make sense for a turian not to be aware of the German Secret State police from the 1930s and 40s, and this turian did not give off the impression of being a xenohistory buff. This was going to have to be something that I was going to have to control over time otherwise my big mouth could get me into trouble.

The C-Sec officer, despite my relative compliance, did not seem to be quite so assured. I don't think that the hospital clothes were doing me any favors. "May I see some identification, please?"

I swallowed hard. I had no identification on me. More specifically, I had no wallet which meant that any ID card would not be on my person. No identification usually meant that I was going to be detained until my existence could be proven. That was the last thing I needed right about now.

"Um…" I stalled as I shoved my hands in my pockets. "You…you…you want my card…o-or something?"

"Just open your omni-tool, sir," the turian made a speed-up gesture. He really knew how to cut through the bullshit.

I was lost once more. What was an omni-tool again? "Omni-tool?" I asked meekly. "H-How do I… _wagh!_ "

As soon as I said the words "omni-tool" I immediately flashed back to the events of the Mass Effect games. An image of a holographic display enveloping the left arm of the wearer came to my mind's eye and at the instant I thought of such a device, my own arm lit up like it had been set ablaze and I nearly jumped out of my clothes. In the next second, I calmed down as my arm turned out not to be on fire, but to have the same holographic display wreathed around it like a long glove. I turned my hand around, inspecting the technology. I thought it was rather neat – the fact that such a tool could be activated purely through thought was nothing short of miraculous to me. Wine from water, one could compare.

The C-Sec officer was staring at me like I was hopped up on speed pills, for I'm sure that I was showing unbelievable naiveté in using what I'm assuming is a common piece of technology. He didn't press me with any more questions but instead activated his own omni-tool and held it near my own. I'm assuming that the two tools were transferring data between the other. I wondered how that was possible and where all of the necessary electronic components for the technology were located. I then had a grave feeling that the components in question were somehow wired into my brain – neural implants – which explained how I could use my mind to control the omni-tool. This was just great, now I assumed that I'm a cyborg. What other nasty surprises were in store for me yet?

"Is your name Samuel McLeod?" the officer asked me.

"Yeah," I said.

"Is your address 5302 Xebron Towers, number 1509?"

Like I had any fucking clue. "Yes," I said anyway.

The turian deactivated his omni-tool and gestured to the clothes that I was wearing. "You were just released from a hospital?"

I lifted my shirt to show him the bandages. "Got the scar to prove it," I said, desperate to lighten the mood.

"How were you injured, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Someone shot and mugged me," I said rather mildly, at least with a droll enough tone that surprised even me. "Didn't do that good of a job, though. I'm still here."

The officer seemed amused at first but then his gaze turned hard. "If you were shot, then have you spoken about this to anyone in C-Sec? Is this something that you would want us to look into?"

"I wouldn't be much help," I admitted. "I have no recollection of any part of the incident. I'm just glad I'm alive, is all I'm saying." That last part was a blatant lie, but once I started to smooth-talk, it was very difficult for me to stop.

"Well, I can understand your disorientation, sir. But just please remember in the future that there's no smoking on this level – at least not so close to a public access walkway."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," I promised. "Never been shot before so I felt like I had to calm myself down. Hopefully the other guy got it worse."

Fortunately that brought a chuckle to the turian and he jerked one of his three fingers behind him. "Well, my shift is about to end and I happen to live on the same arm of the Citadel as you. Why don't I give you a lift to your place?"

Well, an apartment meant quiet and quiet was what I needed. In fact, I was kind of curious to know just exactly where I lived in this universe. "Sure, that sounds perfect," I shrugged.

And then I saw the mode of transportation that we were going to travel in. I only hoped that my stomach would stay strong throughout the journey.

* * *

I can report that I didn't throw up during the trip over to…well, wherever my place of residence was. The C-Sec officer was kind enough to lend his vehicle, called a skycar, which did just what the name described: it was pretty much a car that traveled in the sky. Only took about a hundred fucking years for the technology to become mainstream, apparently. Anyway, I can liken the experience to riding in a helicopter, only you are traveling much faster and the engine is practically noiseless. It was weird, although my face was plastered to the window so that I could look at the futuristic buildings as we zipped amongst the stars across to another arm of the Citadel. I had no feelings of nausea, thankfully, and I tried to keep my face from looking too astonished and filled with wonderful, desperate to blend in. Yep, I was definitely travelling in space now.

The first thing that I thought when the skycar stopped on the landing pad of a building was that the officer had flown me to the wrong place. I mean, this skyscraper looked enormous yet it was decorated quite nicely. I had been living rather modestly before on a workable income so I was expecting accommodations more in that wage bracket. This looked like the fancy places that one would find in any downtown of a major city. The officer was adamant that I did in fact live here, so there was nothing else but for me to at least check the place out. There was no harm in a little exploration.

The immediate hallway from the landing pad was decked out in carpet and a nice wallpaper theme. It reminded me of a hotel, actually. There were a series of lifts nearby so I entered the nearest one but was confused at first at the lack of a number pad indicating which floor I wanted to travel to. Turns out I did not need to worry because a flashing blue beam shot out from the ceiling and swiped across my omni-tool, which had immediately activated in response to the light.

" _Now headed to floor 15_ ," the elevator chimed. " _Welcome back, Mr. McLeod_."

That was a good sign, I guess. I was heading the right way after all.

The elevator then deposited me on the appropriate floor seconds later, and I immediately found my apartment thanks to my name being imprinted in a classy font over the door. Shrugging, I stepped forward and my omni-tool chimed as I came within close proximity to the door and it opened automatically. Cautious but interested in checking out my new digs, I walked inside.

Yeah, I was now certain that there was a mistake. This apartment, while not egregiously lavish, was still too much for someone with my previous salary to have afforded. I mean, this place had everything one could need. Two bedrooms, one main and one guest presumably. Two bathrooms with showers and the like. A dining/living area with a rather large kitchen (for an apartment). There was even a balcony that looked out into the neon night where I could gaze up at the nearby nebula. Ordinarily the layout of the place might not impress some people but, bear in mind, I had come from a small studio sized apartment in Silicon Valley to this…monstrosity, for lack of a better word. The rent for this place had to be in the thousands of dollars every month, more than what I knew I could afford.

Still, I will admit that I was excited about this new upgrade, so I decided to explore the place a little more. The apartment was not devoid of furnishings, I happened to notice almost immediately. In fact, it had a very lived-in feel that made me think that I, this Sam McLeod right now, had been on the Citadel for some time prior to my impromptu "arrival." Now my best guess was that I somehow ended up in this Sam's consciousness in some parallel universe as it was the only way that I could rationalize how my presence seemed to be established here already.

In fact, the more I explored, the more assured I became at this new theory. The bathrooms were stocked with toiletries, the kitchen was full of food (most of which I was able to recognize as not being completely foreign), and the closet was lined with clothes in my size. I did take a little umbrage at the wardrobe, though. Even though everything technically fit, it seemed that clothing styles in this universe tended to focus on streamlining appearances to make them more form-fitting than what I was used to. I suppose the era of baggy clothes was over in this time. I was going to miss wearing blue jeans, to say the least.

However, my excitement was short-lived as I sat down on a nearby couch after I came to a nasty realization. I needed income in order to keep this place, and I had no idea how much money I had in my account to support myself. In a panic, I ignited my omni-tool to look for any details on my banking situation, but I kept fumbling around the user interface. Whoever designed this software should have been publicly lynched, was my initial analysis. I have seen cell phones with less complicated operating systems and the omni-tool's was just aggravating. For starters, the bland gold-orange holographic screen did nothing but hurt my eyes, and the buttons to navigate the menus were not even labeled so I had no fucking clue as to what I was doing. I could very well be ordering a few tons of opium in bulk from my rattled actions and I would be none the wiser as to what I was doing.

By some stroke of luck, I managed to open a window detailing my user settings. Evidentially omni-tools had a page where they could list everything about their host in one place (which, interestingly, did not contain any social security number for me). I found the name of my bank though, complete with the necessary login information. It took me ten more minutes to access whatever passed for the internet in this place and I entered the bank name into the ubiquitous search bar which took me to the company's home page. It was then a simple affair for me to enter my information and the corresponding materials related to my finances popped up in a jiffy.

I began choking on my own spit as soon as I saw the exact number that represented the entirety of my savings. My heart began pounding so hard that I thought I was going to pass out. Five hundred _million_. That was what was posted up on the screen and I read it thrice just to make sure that I was not hallucinating. A five followed by eight zeroes. Good Christ, it turned out that I'm a _millionaire_.

But a millionaire of _what_ , exactly? I returned down to earth as quickly as I had risen above it. I checked the type of currency that my supposed fortune was in and my omni-tool gave the type back to me as "credits." So, apparently I had five hundred million credits in an electronic bank account somewhere, but I had no idea of what credits were worth relative to the dollar. I knew that there were some East Asian countries where about fifteen million of their monies would result in that converting to only a _thousand_ dollars. I was not completely sure that this future currency followed that multiplex trend, but I knew I had to determine my real net worth before I went spend-crazy.

There was an easy way to find that out. I managed to get onto an online mall site and immediately began to browse familiar items that I could name a price on off the top of my head. I scrolled downwards and eventually came across a magazine aimed at providing lewd material for the xenophilic crowd – some publication called _Fornax_. The site was listing its price at five credits, and that was for a new issue. I knew that similar magazines back in America cost around eight dollars, so there was a bit of mental arithmetic to accomplish here. Eight divided by five was 1.6, which was the conversion variable that I wanted. I then applied 1.6 to my five hundred million credits in the bank and found out that, in fact, I had about _eight_ hundred million dollars' worth of money in my account. _Eight hundred_ compared to five hundred! The number may be lesser in real life, but its value was far greater than what initially met my eye.

There was no other way of putting it, and unless the wage gap had diminished dramatically in this universe, I was fucking rich. I was only two hundred million credits away from being a billionaire, which amazed me even more.

No way could this be hell. If it was, then I don't see how giving me a big apartment and a sizeable fortune to spend could possibly be considered part of Satan's "eternity of pain" development plan. It still sucked that I was here, but it was starting to suck a little bit less with each passing hour. Perhaps I _could_ get used to this…give or take a hundred or so years.

So, I have money, a home, and a fresh scar on my abdomen within the _Mass Effect_ universe. If this was a dream, then it was a very elaborate one. I was still not convinced that this was reality, but I had no other options but to go with the flow. Or did I? Maybe I had to do something drastic in order to get me to wake up. I did not know what else to do, but it seemed like acting erratically was a good enough bet to shock me awake if I was dreaming all of this. I just needed to simulate a slew of unpleasant feelings in order to force my mind to accept one reality or the other – kind of like having a nightmare that becomes so scary that you have no choice but to wake up. Scaring myself did not sound quite so appealing, though, so maybe if I could induce _nauseous_ sensations up to a certain intensity, it would be able to bring about the catalyst for awakening that I was looking for.

I found the solution to how I was going to accomplish that rather quickly. In a cupboard in the kitchen, I hit the mother lode. Bottles and bottles of various alcohols, liquors, and mixers were crammed into shelves just as tall as I was. Gin, rum, vodka, whisky, you name it. With the supplies here, I could make any drink that my heart desired and I felt a smile spread across my face. I was never much a partier, but I somehow found myself anticipating the wild night ahead of me.

Not to send the wrong message, but getting blackout drunk was a last resort in my eyes in order to solve this conundrum. If you were in my place, you'd understand, it's just that I would not recommend this as a solution for most problems. This just happened to be a problem that was severe enough for me to consider such extremes. I only needed to get myself sick enough in order to determine what reality I was in. The logic was that in dreams, such nauseous feelings were hampered in part to the brain not having full control over my motor systems. If I failed to get drunk, then I could pinpoint the fact that I'm dreaming and simply work the problem from there. If not, then I just had to find another way how to get out of here.

Bah, enough talk. All this booze isn't going to drink itself, you know?

* * *

 **A/N: I don't think surprised even begins to cover how I felt when I got all of these emails indicating the number of people following, favoriting, or reviewing this story over the last few days. And this was just for the first chapter! Make no mistake, I'm very happy at the reception that I've gotten for this idea and I'm honestly over the moon with the ton of support that has been voiced for Sam's (mis)adventures. You guys definitely broke personal records with a posting on this site for me, so a big thumbs up to you all!**

 **I'm still not going to be working on this full-time unfortunately, but I will make it my mission to not have month-long gaps in between chapters so you can expect semi-regular updates over the coming weeks. Don't panic, this story _will_ get finished as I hate to leave an idea like this uncompleted.**

 **I hope that you keep enjoying the progression of _The Quantum Error_. Please continue to read and review! I also support and encourage questions if you have them and I appreciate any constructive criticism that could potentially improve this story more.**


	3. Chapter 3: Couch Surfer

Ow, ow, ow. I fucked up again, didn't I?

Consciousness did not seep back to me slowly and naturally this morning. Rather, it simply decided to smack me full on in the face, driving an imaginary spike of pain up into my skull and twisting it in its place. I jolted awake with an initial spasm, but quickly fell limp as pain and lethargy held me back down on the ground again. There was loud music playing in the background somewhere; a continuous dull thumping followed by some electronic distortion – but that was not what I was focused on at the moment. I groaned for my head hurt so freaking much.

I guess I had gone a bit overboard on all those Fuzzy Navels. Laugh at me if you want but I enjoy a fruity cocktail whenever I damn well please. The only problem I faced was that I happened to enjoy them a bit too much.

Why didn't I think that getting myself this drunk would not result in anything other than a raging hangover? Of all of the things that had slipped my mind during my disorientation, one would think that the dangers of alcohol would have not been among them. I may have gone to a college emphasizing smarts but, in all honesty, this was not one of my ideas that indicated that my placement in said college was warranted. Clearly I was not a perfect representative of the academic population back from that time. Perhaps I was more visually representative of the mental image depicting a typical graduate student throughout the world: continually drunk off his ass all the time and ambling about with no clue whatsoever.

I tried to move my limbs, but my arms just pathetically dragged themselves along what I could determine was the carpet. It was then did I realize that I was not wearing a shirt as my upper torso felt a little chilly. Somehow, during the events of last night, I had apparently stripped half-naked and passed out on the floor in a puddle of my own drool. I could still feel the bandages applied by the hospital staff constricting my waist as my abdomen twisted while I tried to move. Limply, I lifted my head as the overwhelming smell of pizza assaulted my nostrils. I could barely make out a toppled stack of pizza boxes lying just in front of me, some of the contents spilling out from the cardboard, already cold.

For an embarrassing second, I could not tell where it was that I had woken up, for the hallway and bathroom did not look familiar to me in the slightest. It was only when I had half-risen on the floor (bringing a fresh slew of aches upon my head) that I realized that I was still in the apartment – _my_ apartment, technically. God above, I was still in the _Mass Effect_ universe. So much for drinking myself out of a prospective nightmare. Even in this much pain, I could still tell, based on the futuristic overtones that the apartment carried, that I was not back in California but still on the Citadel in this apartment and with a fortune to boot. Okay, I was starting to remember again (tragically). The headache alone was enough to convince me that I was not in some elaborate hallucination but in a real, tangible world. I guess if I'm being honest, there are worse places to wake up in for no good reason. I could be in a nuclear fallout-riddled wasteland instead of a posh apartment on an advanced space station. Maybe I should start being a little more grateful at my situation.

I knocked aside a bottle of gin (which was dubiously empty) as I began to crawl toward the nearest bathroom. Unfortunately, one of the side effects of me consuming so much alcohol that my body's balance and digestive system was all messed up. The livers of humans, no matter what anyone says, are not really equipped to deal with such large quantities of alcohol injected into the system. Apparently, based on the sensation of a rising lump up my throat, my liver had kindly waited until I had gained my consciousness back and signaling that my stomach was about to purge. As in _, right now_.

In haste, I scooted across the ground, my fingers scrambling at the carpet, and barely made it to the bathroom in time for me to dip my head in the porcelain bowl of the toilet and violently upchuck whatever it was that I had consumed the night before. The sounds from my heaving were horrendous, but the sensation of actually throwing up was nausea inducing to begin with. I threw up several times – my headache trying to splinter my head open with each fresh wave – and I coughed as my esophagus began to burn from the stomach acids. Once my body was finally finished, I hoisted myself up to the sink so that I could clear the foul taste from my mouth and clean myself up. I then collapsed to the ground in a fit of pain again.

I'm sure I looked completely pitiful, lying on my back and trying to right myself like an obese cat. The bandages that were around my gunshot wound were tugging at my skin, providing me yet another source of discomfort. With a grunt, I grabbed at the bandages and sloppily ripped them off, causing me to yell as the sticky surface angrily parted from my skin with a tearing sound. I chucked the dressings into the nearest garbage can. Looking down, I was surprised to see that all that remained from my previously bloody wound was a tiny, depressed crater completely covered in white scar tissue. It did not look all that bad, to be honest. I prodded it gently once again and was met with little agony. I breathed a sigh in relief – that was one seemingly insurmountable obstacle overcome.

Eventually, after some difficulty, I righted myself and stumbled into the kitchen where a fright awaited me. Apparently when I had blacked out, I did not follow the norm of being a peaceful drunk. More pizza boxes were scattered around the ground of the living room, some of the cushions of the couch had been pulled out, bottles of liquor were overturned, and in a few cases there were some shards of broken glass. Music was blaring out of some stereo system – the source of the bass pulsating that had aggravated me when I first awoke. The whole place looked like I had gone and thrown a wild party in my alcoholic haze. Jesus, what _happened_ last night?

Aside from the boxes of pizza there was no evidence that I had shared this "party" with anyone else. Also, I was a little amazed that I had managed to order pizza at all. I was still figuring out to make my omni-tool work, which was the only device that I was probably most able to order food remotely. Apparently I had gotten famished last night and that I was either, unable to find food in the fridge (curious, as last I checked, there was still provisions waiting to be consumed in there) or simply dissatisfied at my current offerings and decided to order takeout. I don't know why I ordered _twelve_ boxes of the large-size pies, mind you, so I can only assume that my drunk alter-ego does not make the best of decisions all the time.

I could not figure out how to turn off the music system (and I'm usually pretty good with technology) so I guessed that resorting to the old trick of pulling the power cord instead would work. Only problem with that was, there were no cords leading from the music player, nor were there any buttons on the face. I was desperate for this terrible music to cease, so I did what anyone suffering from a major headache and simultaneous culture shock would do: I grabbed the device, placed it in the sink, and turned the faucet on over it. The music died with an abrupt crackle of static while the water wreaked havoc with the electronics box. Whatever. I'm sure I could always buy another. Thankful for the newfound peace and quiet, I threw a blanket over my shoulders that I found resting on the remains of the couch in an effort to keep me warm as I was unable to find my shirt in the immediate vicinity.

My head was still pounding away and I was teetering in the middle of the room when a knock suddenly came from the door, startling me. So much for my peace and quiet. Apprehensive, I cautiously edged over to the foyer and opened the door, not knowing if there was some sort of peephole that would allow me to appraise my visitor. The next surprise then decided to rear its head today – and I had not fully woken up yet. I took a startled step back as I took in the sight of my visitor. A thin, gangly salarian stood at the door, his posture hunched and his hands wringing themselves in worry.

"Oh!" the salarian jumped. "Hel…hello, Mr. McLeod."

"Hello…?" I started to say when I realized that I had no idea what this alien's name was. He knew mine, so I could assume that I should know his. Yet, I was not in the mood to begin faking recognition – still a little hungover. "Who are you again?"

The salarian looked puzzled and tilted his head. "Mr. McLeod, I'm Zairn, your neighbor?"

I gave a cheery smile and a false nod of realization. "Ah, right! Sorry, Zairn, I guess I'm more tired than I thought – hardly recognized you for a moment. Is there something that I can help you with?"

The alien gave an apologetic smile. "Actually, I was coming by to see if you were actually awake at this hour. Everyone on our floor wanted to know what was going on and we assumed that you simply fell asleep. We had C-Sec over here last night and they wanted to talk to you, you see."

"Talk to me about what? My ordeal in the hospital? I thought I told the staff there that I was useless-"

"What? Oh no," Zairn shook his head. "C-Sec was not here for that and- wait…you were in the hospital?"

"Someone decided to shoot me in the stomach yesterday," I lifted the blanket slightly so that Zairn could see the scarring just in case he thought that I was lying. "Came home a few hours afterward and passed out. You were saying that C-Sec was looking for me? And for that matter, why would the neighbors be wanting to know what was going on? Was C-Sec making that big of a deal in trying to see me?"

Zairn shifted on his feet and looked a great deal guiltier compared to his initial demeanor. " _Oh_ …" was all he could say. "That is certainly problematic. If I had known that you had been in an accident, I would have persuaded the other residents from calling C-Sec on you."

"Wait, _what?!_ " I gaped. "C-Sec was _called_ on me? Why the hell would you call C-Sec on me?"

"Your music was blaring too loudly and we could not reach you," Zairn explained as he gestured into my apartment. "C-Sec tried knocking at your door but you were unresponsive so they chose to levy you with a noise complaint fine instead of breaking into your place. I had to remind the officers, actually, that forcible entry even from law enforcement is grounds for a lawsuit per Citadel regulations."

"Are you _shitting_ me?! What noise complaint? I haven't seen a form for a noise complaint." I checked at my door and around the foyer for clarification. Nope, there was no paper lying around detailing that I had performed an infraction of any sorts around the area.

"C-Sec didn't give you a _physical_ form," Zairn clarified. "They sent it to your omni-tool. Don't you know? That's how they dispense all penalties to parties that commit most offenses. In this case, since you are a tenant of this establishment and are hereby bound by a lease, the objects in question that any officer could damage in trying to deliver you a notification belong to the complex, not you, of which they would most certainly demand payment from C-Sec. That's why no one delivers paper forms these days – too much liability."

"What, are you a lawyer or something?" I grumbled, noting the salarian's choice of words.

"Attorney, actually," Zairn looked slightly miffed. "I thought you knew that as well, Mr. McLeod. And why should that be of any note? I thought you were in business law, so this should not really be all that foreign to you."

I was about to open my mouth and correct the salarian, stating that I had nothing to do with business law, but I clamped my jaw shut at the last second. Of course my career goals were not going to align here – there was not that much parallel overlap between those universes. Apparently I was fluent in business law here and not medicine. Same thing as before: go along with it.

I glared at Zairn for a second before I opened my omni-tool and clumsily navigated over to the messages application to give myself a reason for being suddenly quiet. In bold lettering, I could see very clearly the first message was from some sort of legal entity – titled " _Violation of Citadel Noise Ordinance_." Fancy way of putting that I had left my music on too loud for the entire night. Damn my drunk self. What was more annoying was the fact that this little oversight on my part was worth a thousand credits for a fine. I may have been a millionaire right now, but I had been used to being in a lower wage bracket for so long that my first instinct was to curl my lip in disgust. But in the long run, this was practically nothing to what I had saved up, even though it still hit me like a sledgehammer in the beginning.

"Well," I scowled, "that's just fucking perfect."

"I do apologize, Mr. McLeod," Zairn said as he began to back away. "We were not aware of your situation in getting shot and everyone simply assumed that you were being a neglectful neighbor. If we had been given notice that you were in a hospital-,"

"Too late for that now," I seethed as I hit the door control, abruptly ending the exchange. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

The door shut upon the salarian, freeing me from his insufferable presence. It then struck me that I had not been quite so affected by being in an alien's existence as I was the first time. Then again, for that initial meeting I had just been thrust in a foreign world and was bleeding all over a bench, which would be reasonable explanations for my initial freakout. In just the span of hours, I was evidentially now able to converse with them without completely losing my shit. Granted, I haven't been entirely civil from the past day on, but my life was one of extremes as of right now.

With a huff, I sat down to read the message and tried to wrack my head on how I was going to pay the fine. Apparently, there was a link embedded in the text that allowed me to connect with the C-Sec site so that I could link my account wirelessly and transfer the money over. Back on Earth, this would sound like a scam and I was initially apprehensive, but I was still too scatterbrained to properly research the technological "extranet" in detail as I still was unclear about where I was. Paying the fine would just have to come in time.

Looking through some more of my messages, I took note that several of them came from some sort of trading site. I was familiar enough with the lingo to know what was going on and I opened a few of the messages. My eyes scanned notifications from various monetary transactions, from some kind of stock market based on the ticker numbers and the supporting graphs, linked directly to a bank account in my name. There were hundreds of these messages, all stating that I had made sizeable amounts of money that would then be added to my overall savings. I guess I now had a clue of where my wealth came from. It seems that my future self had been playing the stock market to his advantage – thereby giving me the resources I needed to be able to survive in this galaxy.

How utterly delightful.

Well, this was a good start to a new day, wasn't it? All sarcasm aside, I'd better take a shower and hope that things become less…problematic in the near future. I could stand a few days without any unpleasant interruptions – I deserved that at the very least.

* * *

Finally, some luck at last.

Thankfully, the bathroom was already stocked with the appropriate toiletries so I did not have to fret with the prospect of procuring shampoo and soap - they were already in their usual spots. The shower itself was also quite nice; glass door with smooth onyx for the walls and floor. It even had a bench for me to sit and ponder while the water rained down upon my head! Oh, this was heavenly. It would take a monumental effort for me to leave this shower every day, count on that.

I felt like a new man when I exited the steam-saturated bathroom. Taking the shower already managed to alleviate the effects from my hangover and the hot water had relaxed my muscles. With a satin robe thrown about me, I padded into the living room and momentarily became dismayed from the devastation that I had caused the previous night. I did not see a remote for a Roomba or anything that resembled an electronic cleaning assistant so I began to pick up the worst of the debris by myself. Fortunately, the cleaning supplies were easy to find and I had done satisfactory work after fifteen minutes of bending my back to pick up astray pizza boxes – the worst of the damage taken care of.

I found the bulk of the wayward pizza stuffed into a compartment in the fridge (as I couldn't have eaten twelve boxes worth all in one night). Apparently my drunk self had still had the foresight to preserve most of the food rather than leave it out in the open, despite the fact that the steps that I had taken to do so were done quite sloppily. Guess I found my breakfast for today. Good thing that pizza tastes delicious at any temperature (go drunk Sam!)

I grabbed at the first slice that I saw – Canadian bacon and pineapple, not too bad – and munched on it while I grabbed at a water bottle. I guzzled the contents of the bottle down in seconds and immediately went back for another. What many people do not realize is that alcohol, despite being a liquid, dehydrates you something fierce and replenishing those fluids is a good way to prevent hangover symptoms. Thus, the food I was eating was slowing down the alcohol absorption in my digestive system and the water was steadily rehydrating me so that I would not collapse in cold sweats.

I added a few more pieces of pizza to a plate and sat down at my repaired couch, parking myself in front of a blank television, or whatever they called these things in this universe. There was no remote for the TV, to my dismay. I know because I looked everywhere for it, even between the cushions. Unless I had drunkenly thrown it out of the window, this television had no goddamn remote.

Oh wait, it just occurred to me. I engaged my omni-tool and tried to see if it had a function that could allow me to connect to electronic devices. Surely enough, it did and it projected a series of functions that would allow me to control the television, or vidscreen as the tool referred (to my shame, I then realized that I could have used my omni-tool to turn off my music system instead of destroying it in the sink). You can imagine my surprise, having to contend with the spottiness of wireless internet for years, that the connection that the vidscreen had with the extranet was practically flawless and in such a high-definition that I think that my eyes began to bleed. I was overwhelmed with the influx of information at my disposal: news reports, weird sports that I had never heard of, travel programs, military reports, feature films-

Wait, films? That sounded like it warranted a look. I found an online marketplace easily and I think that my face became blank in a split second. If you thought that 2015 had an abundance of films available online, words could not explain the situation adequately right now. A complete smorgasbord would be putting the wealth of options I had quite lightly.

That was just the start of the three days I spent glued to the couch. It turns out, after over a hundred years the copyrights for various franchises that were only introduced in my old universe were now null in this one, making them public domain. So, I had the entire library of fantastic movies all at my disposal for free, and also films that were released after 2015 and that I would have had to wait several years to watch but I could access them immediately here. I had enough food to sustain myself and I needed something to draw my attention away from all of the madness surrounding me. I could lose myself in movies easily enough, so I got cracking the instant that I spied the seventh _Star Wars_ movie in the queue. It downloaded in less than a second (apparently the extranet here had a speed of a couple of petabytes per second – which is unheard of to us primitives) and I remained rooted on the couch for hours on end.

A few days later, I was beginning to maybe consider the fact that my being here was not so bad after all. In the span that I had sat in front of the vidscreen, I had watched all twelve new _Star Wars_ films (plus the spinoffs), six of the newest _James Bond_ films, a couple adaptations of popular works that I had enjoyed in the past, and even the rebooted _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy (which wasn't half bad, if I may say so). And I had not even scratched the surface by any stretch of the means. There were so many wonderful looking movies out there that I could access – not to mention all of the television shows in the past that I could watch until the end, now that their runs on the air had finished. To top it off, this was only the selection of human films that I was perusing. There were still works from all of the other races out there that I was not even considering in my searches. If you think about it and consider the period of time that I had missed, that's a hell of a lot of movies to catch up on.

Then there was also the video game situation to consider. From what I had perused in the online marketplace, I apparently had the equipment necessary to utilize all of the video game media that was currently offered today. I guess the vidscreen had the necessary hardware to do such a thing (the end-to-end functionality had finally come to fruition). Titles currently being offered were _Halos_ six through twelve (good grief!), _Metal Gear Solid X_ (interesting), and over thirty unfamiliar _Call of Duty_ titles, among others. Well, I guess my social life, muddled as it was to begin with, is now over.

Funnily, I did notice that the games hub did not offer any _Mass Effect_ titles for sale. That would make sense, otherwise wouldn't that just result in a paradox by having a video game outline the entire future for this universe? Apparently those games just never existed in this reality. An extranet search helped solidify that theory even more; there were absolutely no references or even fan sites for any of the _Mass Effect_ games that I could find. Great, I did not have the best knowledge of this franchise to begin with and now that there was no way for me to confirm when any of the major plot points took place, I was basically treading water like everyone else on this damn station.

Which reminds me, what was even the _year_ here? A quick check to my omni-tool showed that it was currently 2182. That threw me for a loop. It wasn't so much the fact that I had jumped ahead a hundred and fifty years, but it was something a little more prevalent. I mean, was 2182 the accepted year for all the species? Surely a race like the asari would not be bound to a human's version of the date, so was this the year shared amongst everyone or was it just the humans who referred to the year as 2182 amongst themselves? I'm confused again; I better just hope that I don't have to give an alien the date anytime soon.

I shut off the vidscreen as I paused to think. Okay, so the year was 2182, so when did the _Mass Effect_ games take place again? I wracked my brain to come up with an answer and the best I could manage was that the events of the first game took place in 2183, only next year. Perfect, so I had a few months at the most (since the omni-tool said that it was about November at this time) to prepare for the missiles to begin flying. That was when Commander Shepard was thrust into the Reaper plot on the planet Eden Prime from the moment he touched a Prothean beacon, right? Huh, I guess I remember the timeline better than I thought. Better pat myself on the back for that.

I bet I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking that I, now knowing when and where a key event in the _Mass Effect_ timeline is going to occur (being Eden Prime), should take steps to position myself there so that I could insert myself into the narrative of the games and use my knowledge to guide Commander Shepard throughout his adventures. If that is exactly what you're thinking, then I already have my response: _are you out of your fucking mind?_

Here's where I draw the line. Commander Shepard is a well-seasoned solider, right? Probably the best that humanity has to offer. He is a whirlwind of death and destruction that comes out victorious in every skirmish, no matter how much the odds threaten to overwhelm him. And you would think that I would be fine standing by his side, weapon in hand? Let me put this in perspective: I'm a graduate student in medicine, not a trained soldier. In other words, I'm a doctor, not a mercenary! I may have some training in gun safety (I owned a pistol back in 2015, actually) but I have no hand-to-hand combat training, no experience in war, and completely zero interest in actually getting myself involved in any sort of fighting whatsoever! If I were to try and attempt joining up with Shepard and his crew, I would simply be a misplaced member on board his ship; the odd one out, so to speak. What could I possibly bring to the table that could even convince Shepard to let me sign up anyway?

I had my omni-tool open at this point and began to jot down notes of why joining up with Shepard was a bad idea. This brought me to the next issue at hand, and boy was it a doozy.

Fortunately for the value of foresight, I had managed to bring this problem to mind before I had caused harm to myself and others. I immediately dubbed such a quandary the _Back to the Future_ problem (BTTF for short). I'm sure everyone remembers that film: teenager travels back in time thanks to a modified DeLorean and, through his actions, manages to alter the course of his history thereby creating an alternate timeline that is different from the one that he traveled back to. This was pretty much the same issue I was facing now. Granted, I had no time period that I could travel forward to that would be irreparably damaged from my interference, but the _Mass Effect_ games had such a definitive endpoint for the main characters in the series. Think about it, I'm an unknown entity with knowledge of future events in a foreign universe. If I go spouting off to the wrong person, I could end up changing the course of the games and sending it into new and unpredictable territory with perhaps fatal results.

Folding my hands over my lap, I stared up at the ceiling as I began to ponder some more about what would happen if I managed to monumentally fuck up the timeline. It was interesting in the weirdest way, trying to anticipate the exact nature of events from my potential interference. So, let's say that I happened to meet up with Shepard at some point in time and relayed my knowledge of future events to him. What could realistically happen from that? My personal belief was that Shepard would just write me off as some crazy loon spouting nonsense and would simply ignore me, rendering my chances of being able to join the Normandy crew down to nil. In that case, my presence would have done absolutely nothing to change the timeline (yet it was not something I was willing to risk).

Now let's pretend that Shepard _would_ believe everything that I would say, just to humor myself. If, by some miracle, Shepard took the drivel out of my mouth as the truth (which, let's face it, is a long shot) then that would definitely create an alternate reality that I would not be able to predict, thus rendering me rather useless. From playing the game, if I happened to indicate to Shepard the destinations where his presence was most needed without him having to scramble about in confusion, then I wager that my interference in streamlining the narrative would result in Shepard not meeting key people that would have been instrumental in shaping the man's life until the end. Hell, I had the power to tell Shepard that he would even be "killed" sometime after the events of the first game which, if Shepard took my advice and managed to avoid his demise, would render the narrative passages from the succeeding games to be obsolete.

No, the correct decision is most definitely not to interfere with Shepard's affairs in any form. Creating an alternate timeline would hamper my ability to predict future events, resulting in a universe even more dangerous than it already was for me as I could not take steps to protect myself from any unpleasant surprises. I may have tried to commit suicide less than two days ago, but as you can see from where I ended up, I don't really have dying as the top goal in my mind right about now. Like, what if I was killed in this universe and I got sent to yet another universe in some sort of infinite existence-loop? I could be transported to the _Game of Thrones_ world and be beheaded within hours of arriving! For all I knew, death was not going to be my way out of here.

I'm just going to stick to the _Wargames_ mantra, thank you very much: the key to winning is not to play.

After all, I don't think my purpose in being here (if I actually _had_ a purpose) was to help Commander Shepard out with his troubles. Somehow, I think that my issues to solve here were probably significantly smaller-scale than dealing with a galaxy-wide holocaust.

I should probably write that down. On my omni-tool, I opened up a blank page and began to clumsily type on it. I managed to get a handle on the formatting with only a small degree of difficulty and titled the document, " _Sam's Rules for Mass Effect."_

I then typed in the following.

 _1\. Do not get involved in any way._

Hm. Seems a little vague. I need to elaborate more on my note-taking skills. I then typed in a second point.

 _2\. Do not talk about Fight Club._

Damn it, Sam! Be serious here! I erased the second line and wrote down the _real_ second point.

 _2\. Keep your mouth shut about future events at all times._

That was an important one. Blathering the wrong thing would just draw attention to myself and could perhaps tip the scales for a critical moment in the games. It did not matter which moment, I just had to seal my lips and let the events play out by themselves as they were meant to. Low-key was the nature here – I was good at doing that, at least. Plus, it would also keep me out of a mental institution, so that was also another good reason.

 _3\. Don't fuck anyone remotely important to the games (KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS!)_

The capital letters were intentional. I wanted to type that last part in such a way that my attention would automatically be drawn to it. This was another point that I was sure that I was going to have no trouble following, yet it required mentioning anyway.

A pretty obvious detail, no? The logic is glaring: if I mess around in bed with someone important to the main story, like a crewmember, then I will have managed to involve myself in the narrative of the games, yet another point of possible plot contention. After all, if I happen to sleep with the wrong person, I could inadvertently prevent the canon romance in this timeline from occurring (if Shepard was actually going to woo someone in this timeline, to be specific, but better to be safe than sorry). That meant no going after that asari archeologist, that crazy bald chick with the tattoos, or that purple-suited quarian with the elaborate name. What was that quarian called again? Tara? Teri? Trisha? Richard? Whatever, it'll come to me later.

So, yeah. All ladies crucial to the plot were off-limits to me. As far as I was concerned, they were all potential partners for Shepard to go to bed with and-

Wait a second. How am I even so sure that Commander Shepard was even a guy in this universe? That's it! A major aspect of the games was that the player could choose the gender of their Shepard. Who's to say that Shepard was not a female here? _Arrrggh!_ This was so frustrating! I have to consider so many different alternatives due to the loose structure of the game's story that it's hurting my head again!

Screw it. I'm not changing the list. It doesn't matter if Shepard is a man or a woman in this universe, I'm not going to sleep with any of the characters remotely relevant to the plot! To make addendums and exceptions for the rules that I have in place would only serve to disorient me. Better to restrict what I could or could not do rather than be loose and have it backfire in the future.

I got up to refill my glass of water, taking the time to stretch my back out as I did so. I guess that was it for the list today. I could always fill in more points as they came to me. Right now, I was getting a little stir-crazy and felt that I could handle a quick venture outside. As long as I kept my cool with the aliens in my midst, I should be fine for a short walk.

The clothes I chose to don myself with looked ridiculous in my opinion, but I had seen most of the humans on the Citadel decked out in this style of slim clothing, so I didn't think I would be as conspicuous as I initially thought. I did throw on a jacket, so that was able to lend a touch of the familiar. The styles here might raise some glances back in 2015, but that was a different century, all things considered. Old school, if you want to flip back to the 90s phrasebook.

Really, I am so out of my depth here it's not even funny.

I guess I had everything that I needed to go out, yet I felt that something was missing. I went back into my room and scoured every single place that I could fathom, yet I was unable to find anything resembling the item in question that I was searching for. I even checked the other rooms before I determined that, yes, there was no firearm of any sort in this apartment.

Before you go asking me why I should care if my future counterpart did not possess a gun in his – _my_ – home, consider this for a moment. If there's one thing that I remember from the _Mass Effect_ games, it's that a fair amount of problems tend to be solved with a weapon at hand. I'm not saying that I should buy a gun to go on a shooting spree, I'm more or less referring to the fact that _Mass Effect_ depicts a galaxy in which the usage of weapons tends to be rather prevalent in society to the point that it makes every locale look like Texas during the rebellion. I'd be willing to bet that most people on the streets have guns tucked into their belts which means that it is imperative that I get a weapon of my own to defend myself. The gun laws on the Citadel at least seemed to be relaxed enough that it's employing the tactic of deterrence to be the end failsafe, as in, assume that everyone has a gun and no one will commit a crime. After all, would you be willing to accost someone that you know is armed? _I_ certainly would not.

Besides, I always felt safer knowing that I had a weapon I could access. Better not to need one and have it rather than need it and not have it. I guess that meant procuring a firearm was my shopping goal for the day. The price of such a gun was negligible, considering my vast amount of disposable income. I just needed to find a place that I could actually buy one, is all.

With nothing else to consider, I hurriedly exited through the doorway. All right, now to find a gun and avoid any troublesome encounters. How hard could that be?

As fate would turn out, the answer was _very_.

* * *

 **A/N: Most fics like this take the time to establish the rules of their story and this one is no exception. However, I tried to make the process feel as natural as possible, with a little dash of humor thrown in to help give character to Sam. By all accounts this should have been an agonizing chapter to write but I actually had fun trying to deconstruct everything and have the character give his unfiltered opinion on the subject. Hopefully you like it as well.**

 **So far, I am very happy from the support that I've been getting from readers in terms of kind words and constructive criticism. Please keep reading and reviewing! I will also answer any questions you might have granted that you don't ask me to spoil any part of the plot.**

 **As what the final sentence in this chapter indicates, a certain conflict will rear its head very soon (in terms of what kind of conflict, you'll have to wait and see) but it means that things are about to get interesting for our protagonist. I'll do my best to get the next update up at around a reasonable interval, but until then, keep your eyes open.**


	4. Chapter 4: Spur - Violence

Taking a step back and analyzing myself honestly, I really do not fit the demographic in terms of disposition for gun owners. Certainly I do not adhere to the redneck sensibilities that seem to come with owning a firearm of any sort, which is why I never really made a big deal out of it in the past. The current stereotype for gun shops in 2015 is something akin to a trader shop out of the Old West, a place where bows and arrows adorn the walls while camouflage costumes hang on the racks, with rows and rows of shotguns all lined up meticulously behind a tobacco-chewing shop owner sporting a beard to make even Santa Claus blush. I always felt uncomfortable going into one of those stores; I grew up in a city, not the country, so such a style of living is practically akin to living on another planet, ironically enough.

I did not get that sort of feel from being in this gun shop, though. Instead of the rustic theme I had been expecting, the presentation of the wares in question on the Citadel was more _delicately_ handled. The style of the place was futuristic like the rest of the surroundings, but the owner here treated the items he was selling like they were jewelry or artifacts in a museum. By that I mean that glass cases were set up all around the store with weapons of every shape and size locked behind them like you would find at a diamond shop. Lights illuminated the guns like they were in a showroom and the entire place had a sleek, glossy finish to it. Standards sure had changed while I was away, and for the better, I might add.

That, however, did not mean that I was any less overwhelmed. I was expecting a rather modest collection of pistols and perhaps shotguns here like what one would find at any sports equipment store, but what I found was that this place was selling a bit more than paltry defense items. Try full-blown assault and sniper rifles out for size – at least that was what they looked like – and I quickly got the sense that I was out of my league here. People took their weaponry seriously here in the future. I wondered how this could be legal or if you needed a special permit to buy guns like that. It then occurred to me that I had not bothered to check if I had the equivalent of a carry permit encoded into my omni-tool for me to be able to actually purchase a gun. I wouldn't have the first clue where to look on there, so I simply resorted to eavesdropping to gauge if I should depart and come back at a later time with the proper paperwork or just go for it and buy a damn gun.

I elected to edge closer to the front counter, maneuvering behind a rather tall turian in line. They were wearing what looked like a black trench coat with a few modified metal flairs and it was only from the turian's reduced crest and fringes could I tell that it was a female. I did not catch the front part of the exchange between the female and the shopkeeper, also a turian. Responding to his customer's order, the man brought out a rather large shotgun and what looked like a demonic skull, but I quickly realized that it was a helmet of sorts. A rather odd and downright _scary_ helmet with an ivory colored jaw and a chromed dome. Without a word, the female handed the male a credit chit and it was quickly scanned without any other form of identification accepted. I guess that I didn't need any permit after all.

"All set, madam Grevel," the male turian gave a nod. "Thank you for your business."

The female just gave an uncharacteristic grunt and slid the helmet over her head after slotting her new shotgun over her back. The helmet's eyes blazed a fiery orange and the bottom piece of the mask appeared to move in time with the movements of the female's jaw. That was rather unsettling. Cool looking, but unsettling.

As the turian named Grevel stomped out of the shop, I edged closer to the front counter where the pistols were currently being displayed. I bent my knees and tried to see if I could discern a model I liked by sight alone. As you could imagine, I was not having much success. The models locked behind the glass were tools so futuristic that I had no idea what the pros and cons were of each type. At this point, all I wanted to know was that if they were able to shoot bullets. I eventually settled on a sleek white model near the exit and tapped the glass, calling the cashier over to me.

"You want to check that out, sir?"

"If that's allowed," I shrugged as I scratched the back of my neck, a reaction to whenever I get nervous. "To be honest, I have no idea if that pistol is any good compared to the rest of the, uh, competition offered."

"It's definitely a good one for beginners," the turian said as he ducked behind the counter, coming up moments later with a contraption that looked like it was taken straight out of _Star Trek_. "Pretty easy for a human to handle and it's sufficient for home defense. I say that because you don't look like a hunter to me." He handed the weapon to me, grip first, and I hesitantly took it from him.

The pistol itself was nothing like I had ever seen before in person. It was a lot bulkier than the conventional weapons that I was used to, but because of the lightweight metal and white plastic that made up its frame, it weighed about the same as a standard handgun. There was a secondary barrel underneath the main one – I had no idea what that was for. There was a guard for the trigger but there was also a guard for the entire hand that jutted from the grip. That was a design feature most likely intended to cater to all species as some had bigger hands than humans. The sighting mechanism was a bit more elaborate and I took a few seconds to aim down the weapon, finding that it was intended for accuracy.

The clerk crossed his arms expectantly. "Yep, that's the M-5 Phalanx, Mister…?"

"McLeod," I said as I turned over the pistol, trying to figure out where the magazine release switch was. "I know it seems like I just got off the boat here, but I swear that I'm not always this hopeless at firearms."

"Only experienced with civilian models, eh?"

I furrowed my brow. "Wait, I thought these _were_ the civilian models."

The turian shook his head. "Not exactly. These are just military models that have been modified for use by the public. This store doesn't stock the types of meager weaponry that are used solely for target shooting. All the stock you see is for home defense."

"That makes sense, I guess," I shrugged as I set the pistol down on the counter. "But I think you're going to have to walk me through how to operate this damn thing before I walk out of here with a purchase."

I think that the promise of a sale was what caused the turian's demeanor to become a little brighter in an instant. "I'd be glad to show you," he said jovially and lifted the gun up and pointed to the mechanisms. "Okay, primary trigger is within the trigger guard, obviously. Secondary trigger is down by the base. You squeeze that and then you pull the primary trigger to fire your secondary ammo."

"Sorry," I interrupted. "Secondary ammo? What is that?"

"The bottom barrel here is for concussive bursts. Completely messes up biotic barriers and will stun anyone who isn't covered by armor. Knocks them right down to the ground. That should be used if you're unwilling to take care of problems lethally."

"Makes sense," I agreed.

"Onto the main specs, then. The Phalanx is a highly accurate model, but as it is a heavy pistol, you're going to be encumbered by severe recoil unless you add some mods to it. Firing speed is 80 rpm, but you're going to get nowhere near that number before you overheat the sinks."

"That's when you reload it, right?"

"What?" the turian looked confused. "No. Of course not. There's no reloading anything. You just have to sit out the cooldown period before you can fire the gun again. It's also not like the ammo itself is finite, you'll be able to last forever on what is already in the weapon."

Crap. I forgot that the reloading mechanics were not implemented until after the first Reaper attack. Way to not look like a foreigner, Sam. "Right," I said, hoping that I sounded somewhat focused.

"The Phalanx also comes with a laser sight, activated here," the turian gestured to a hidden button. "The rounds themselves work well against armor, and you have the concussive bursts to take out barriers, but if you don't get the modification to include disruptor ammo, you're going to have a tougher time shooting at someone with shields."

Boy, did this guy know how to make a sale. He was casually talking about shooting people like it was an everyday occurrence for him. I better just buy this thing before I happen to get shot by one of the toting crazies in this place.

"I don't suppose that you happen to sell that modification, then?" I asked, making sure to bump my eyebrows upward in a savvy manner.

"Sure I do," the turian leered. "But it's going to cost you extra."

"I can live with that," I answered. "I don't suppose that there's anything else that I might want to add to the gun that you can sell me?"

"If you're just using it for defense, then I don't think I can really entice you into anything else. If you include the disruptor rounds, you'll have all the equipment needed to sufficiently tackle someone in your way if it comes to that."

"Except when they come within arm's reach. I'd guess I might have a problem then."

The clerk lowered his eyes in thought. "For that, I'd recommend having a knife on you. But you do know the dangers of carrying a blade, right?"

"Sure do," I nodded morosely. "Everyone loses if you get into a knife fight. Injury is guaranteed from all the wild slashing between two opponents."

"Finally a customer with common sense. What are you looking for in a blade of choice?"

"Oh, I don't know," I mumbled as I glanced down at the glass counter again, looking through all of the various blades and extras associated with them. "I'd guess that I'd take anything that can do sufficient damage without requiring much skill on my part."

The turian looked pleased at that. "Turns out you humans have just a tool for that purpose." He rummaged around the shelves for a bit before he produced a wickedly curved knife, the blade black as soon. "Modified blade in what you refer to as a 'karambit' style. Good for creating long, deep wounds from slashes. Not quite as effective for stabbing. Can be folded into the grip, which is modified for your hand style, and it can be withdrawn with a simple button press." He flicked the blade out for emphasis, the point shining in the bright light.

"Yikes," I said as I cupped my chin. "I would be deterred alone by the mere sight of such a thing."

"That's why this is one of the more popular items. Even us turians have adapted the style for personal use."

I glanced down into the glass case again and pointed to the knife. "I'm sold, then. You can throw in that knife with my order– along with a holster for both it and the pistol."

"Most excellent," the turian nodded in an appreciating manner. "That will be 5500 credits in total."

It took a lot of willpower for me not to choke on air. 5500 credits was a little more than two months' salary for me, but then I remembered that I was overflowing with wealth, so this was practically a drop in the bucket for me. I began to breathe normally again. Trust me, going from poor to rich in literally no time in all takes a long while to get used to.

I signed off on the receipt (and just like before, no identification was requested) and the clerk slid the weapons across the counter in my direction. I slipped the knife into its holster and fastened it to the waistline of my pants. The Phalanx I placed into a large pocket of my jacket.

Before I left, the clerk raised his hand. "One more thing. Store policy states that I have to remind you that you're not going to be able to fire that weapon for the next forty-eight hours. It's part of the safety regulation that all gun proprietors now follow since last month in that the latest software inside the gun locks up the mechanism until the stated time period has passed."

I unconsciously patted the gun that was now in my jacket. "No, I did not know that," I mused. "Why was that implemented again?"

"To deter criminals from immediately performing crimes once they get their weapons or to give an appropriate amount of time for suicidal people to consider their disposition after they purchase a firearm. It hasn't really effected sales all that much, so I guess I can't complain."

I stared sourly at the pistol in my pocket. Great, for forty-eight hours I would still be vulnerable to anyone with a weapon in hand. If was going to be mugged and shot again, I would still be unable to defend myself. I could always lock myself in my apartment for the next two days and have my groceries delivered to me before I could pronounce it safe for me to venture outside again. At least I had options to consider.

I had barely gone three steps out of the door with my new, yet currently functionless, pistol before a light on the back of my hand started pinging. I jumped, startled, but realized that it was just my omni-tool that was producing the light show and annoying sounds to go with it. I opened my tool and found that apparently, I was getting a message from a "Nathan Houser." Apparently this man's name was also labeled as " _Asshole_ " in parentheses. Great, now I really was looking forward to answering this call. Somehow, I doubt I would enjoy talking with a person that I had apparently disliked before in the past.

"Hello?" I answered, not sure if I should hold my hand close to my ear like a cell phone or that the cybernetics in my body would catch my words without me having to speak in my tool. Could I treat calls like Bluetooth devices in that they were hands-free? Culture shock is very real here and I'm not even close to getting caught up.

" _Where the fuck are you, McLeod?!_ " a raspy voice burst into my ear. This guy sounded like he had some beef with me and I was still fumbling in the dark. I was at a loss for words momentarily.

"I don't know what you're talking about…Nathan," I said, almost forgetting the man's name and tacked it on at the end like it was an afterthought.

" _Enough with the lip, you little prick!_ " Ouch. " _You said that you were only going to take four days off for vacation time and guess what? It's day five and you are not in your desk and those three dozen T-SOS reports have not been inputted into the ERP system yet, which is what you said you'd do when you got back. I've got Clusky breathing down my neck for an update on the Rider account and with your disappearance, we've gone nowhere! Our progress has stalled, clients are bombarding me left and right, IT is useless at resolving the software issues, and we've got several shipments stalled in drydock! Order batching is fucked, pal, so where the fuck are you?!"_

Geez, sounded like this Nathan Houser had a legitimate problem. I knew a potential meltdown when I heard one, but there was virtually nothing that I could do at this point. The Sam McLeod they knew was well-versed in business law but right now that is a field that I know exactly jack about. I was about as useful as a grave robber in a crematorium to them, all things considered. I just had to handle this situation as delicately as possible so that I would hurt the least amount of feelings as possible.

"Sorry," I blurted out loud. "Can't help you with that, Nathan."

You're a fuckhead, Sam. " _Delicately"_ just isn't in your vocabulary, eh?

" _Hey, wiseass!_ " Nathan bellowed. " _Just because you think you're hot shit from getting rich off the stock market while the rest of us saps have to bust our asses just to have ends meet doesn't make you above the rules of this firm! You get into this office at the end of the day or so help me, you will never set foot in another law firm in this galaxy! I know you, McLeod, and that means that you're not the type to burn bridges like this. You've always been a pain in my ass, but you're a hard worker. Don't leave me hanging like this, man_."

I was torn. What could I do? Sit blankly in front of a computer monitor and attempt to interpret documents that I did not have a clue of what they meant? Like I wanted to sit in a cubicle for the rest of my professional career. This Nathan Houser, despite knowing who I was, did not know who I am now. To be brutally honest, this was a bridge that I could afford to burn, yet I did not know how to put my line of reasoning into a form of verbal communication that would make sense to even the most observant of conversationalists.

It took a moment of hesitation, but my next move was to simply press the disconnect button on my omni-tool, leaving me to mentally move on with my life. I was never one to have some sort of smart comeback at the critical moment, especially when faced with losing a job I never even knew I had. Nathan Houser would most likely be shitting his pants on the other line, but when my current knowledge of such an industry would be more detrimental to his firm than helpful, I was actually doing him a favor, all things considered. I had no knowledge of my workplace, my coworkers, or even my job title. I know it seemed like I was being a dick, but in my head it was better to cut all ties rather than string everyone along for a lie I _knew_ I could not keep up for very long. I had the luxury of starting anew, if that was ever going to be my intention.

Having been walking and talking at the same time throughout that short-lived conversation, I'm afraid that I had made a wrong turn somewhere in my absentmindedness, because the route that I was on did not look anything like the boulevard back to my apartment. That was probably going to be a common theme because I found that I got disoriented a lot more easily as of late. Gee, I wonder why? In any case, this dark alley that I was in looked rather rapey, but all I had to do was turn a corner at the next crossroads and I could reconnect with the street that took me back to my place, according to my map application. Not too far to go, from what I understood.

Turns out I was terrible at reading the legend on my map as the next corner was over thirty meters away from where I currently was, and the atmosphere did not look any more inviting. I should have turned back some time ago but since my common sense was operating at an all-time low, I kept going. So far I had not seen any people trying to rape or murder me in the shadows, never mind a single soul at all, so I was feeling more confident at keeping my chin held high. Project an air of confidence and trouble will not pounce was my line of logic. Just ten more seconds and I would be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel around the bend. I'll be back home before I know it!

Right as I was about to turn left, I heard a high-pitched scream echoed from the rightmost side of the alley that I was approaching, causing me to stop in my tracks. My hands instinctively shot towards my gun but slackened when I remembered that the pistol still had the electronic lock on it. I also had that knife, but I was not one for getting up close and personal, despite purchasing such a weapon. I've seen way too many war movies to know that getting knifed in retaliation is not a pleasant way to go. I believe that this was the point that I began to regret buying a knife in the first place.

The screaming continued and I shut my eyes, sickened at my situation. The person in need sounded about my age, a woman, but there was nothing I could do. I had no appropriate weaponry to swoop in and save the day like a superhero. Hell, I never would have done such a thing back in 2015, so why was I considering this in the first place?

"Don't do it, Sam," I whispered to myself. "Don't get involved."

 _Oh, fuck that, Sam!_ The little voice in my head yelled. _Someone might be getting killed next to you and your first instinct is to do nothing?_

"It's not my place to step in," I breathed. "That's a job for the cops."

 _Like they're going to arrive in time. You're in an alley where no one dares to venture unless absolutely necessary. For all you know, the cops are never going to show._

"Then I'll run and get help myself. I'm not going over there!"

 _You'll be too late. Whatever happened to the man who would stand up for a woman in need? You've gotten your ass beat before from defending women before. Granted, they were girlfriends, but how is this any different?_

"It's not that simple," I emphasized. "I'm not going to risk my neck for someone I don't even-"

" _Help!_ " The same woman cried, seemingly far away. " _Someone help me! Pleeeaaassseeee!_ "

There was a thud, a high cry, and a masculine yell of, "Shut up, bitch!"

 _You're really going to walk away now, big guy?_

I grimaced, now feeling nervousness begin to seep into the soles of my feet. I pounded the nearby wall in frustration before I drew my pistol from its holster. I gave the trigger a test squeeze and found that, yep, the software still had the entire contraption on lockdown. It was nothing more than a paperweight at this point, but no one else needed to know that. There was a word for someone like me at this moment: insane.

"Fuck!" I mumbled savagely. "I know I'm going to regret this."

And, like the idiot that I am, I proceeded not to the left as I had originally envisioned, but to the right with my useless pistol out in front. As I got closer to the sounds of the commotion, the noises from the victim were making me sick to my stomach.

"Please! I didn't steal anything! I only- _AAH!_ "

"Jesus," I breathed as I heard a sharp sound of what was undoubtedly a kick. The woman started to make terrible gulping noises as the wind was knocked out of her. I gave my head a little shake and crept forward, careful not to make any sounds from my shoes on the ground.

"Don't lie to us!" A nasty voice echoed. "Where else would you get something like that unless you stole it? You seriously believe that filth like you earned that _legitimately_?"

Another kick, another yell. I was getting less nervous and more infuriated. I hated to know that an innocent woman was getting hurt. My overinflated sense of honor was kicking in here, giving me the urge to jump in and defend the helpless. In my opinion, beating a woman is one of the lowest possible things one could do. This had to end now.

As I edged around a dumpster, I could see three shapes standing over a figure huddled over the ground. Three? Shit, I only thought I was dealing with one guy. Too late, though. I'm too close to ignore this, so I'd better hope that all three of these assholes fall for my bluff. Two of these assailants were human but the ringleader appeared to be a turian. They were dressed plainly, dark colors, but their overall demeanor told me that they were used to trodding over those they considered to be lower than them. These guys needed to be put in their place.

Through the tangle of feet, I finally got a glimpse of the woman, which made me gape in surprise. My mental image, naturally, was of a human in distress but I guess I was not prepared to see a _quarian_ instead. The alien was wearing the traditional bodysuit that all members of their race wore, colored a midnight black, and her hood was a deep blood-red. That same color also appeared in vivid trails down the fabric that enveloped her body. The quarian currently lay in a fetal position, one hand raised in pleading, the other near her face to protect her visor from shattering. Even without any facial cues for me to pinpoint, I could definitely tell from her body language that the female quarian was deathly afraid.

"No…" the quarian whimpered. "No… _OWWW! AGH!_ "

The turian had given yet another kick to the quarian, this time in the chest, and took the moment when she was flailing about to stamp down on her hand hard. I could hear a crunching noise and I knew that bones had been broken. The combination of the quarian's cries and the laughter from the men surrounding her was driving me over the edge, my own survival instincts be damned. It was time to settle this.

I chose an empty bottle on the ground to bat away with my foot and announce my presence, causing the three men to turn around abruptly. "Fellas," I said, amazingly without a hint of fear in my voice, as I held my pistol out. "You'd better back away, real slowly."

There was no hammer for me to cock back, which was always a silly move that was prevalent in films, but I think that such a noise would have provided me with a bit more of a backbone. I certainly could have used a bit of assurance right now. The assaulters did not seem to be afraid, despite the fact that they held no weapons apart from a bottle that one of the humans was holding. Could they tell that my gun did not work? Did I just happen to screw myself over by doing this?

The lead turian gave a snort and a dismissive wave. "Piss off, pal. This doesn't concern you."

"Oh yeah?" I retorted with a jab of my pistol. "Well, _pal_ , this does happen to concern me. I don't like people beating up women. The fact that you three would stoop so low to do such a thing is beyond scummy. Get the fuck out of here before something happens that you'll regret."

"Really?" the turian laughed. "We're just doing our civic duty here. Suit-rats should not be allowed free reign on the Citadel. Why would a human defend a quarian, anyway?"

"Does it really matter what race she is?" Well, it was not like I had my entire lifetime to develop grudges against any of the races. To me, they were all equal. Yet that was obviously not how the galaxy saw it. "I won't ask you again."

" _Help…m-me_ …" the quarian whimpered.

The human on the right took a swig of his bottle and belched. "Fuck you, asshole. You're a pussy. If you were going to shoot us, you'd have done it by now."

I now held the Phalanx with both hands and aimed it at the loudmouth. "Call me a pussy one more time and you'll see if I have the balls or not."

My big mouth was acting up again. If I wasn't high on adrenaline, I would have known that I just fucked myself by bluffing too high.

The quarian was softly moaning behind the men and I involuntarily glanced in her direction for a split second. That was when everything went to hell all at once. The human with the bottle wound his arm up and chucked the glass in my direction, yelling " _Pussy!_ " for emphasis. I turned back at just the right moment for the bottle to smash onto my forehead and shatter, the glass slicing my skin open in several places. Blood poured into my eyes and the remaining alcohol splashed onto my cuts, creating a stinging sensation. I yelled at the terrible pain and clasped a hand to my face.

My arm that held the pistol had been pointing down at the ground while I was reeling from the first blow, and the attackers promptly forgot about the quarian and ran towards me instead.

Oh boy.

Fists suddenly smashed into my head and I dropped to a knee, my arms blindly swinging about, trying to catch one of my assailants. It was no use, though. A hail of punches battered my body and I screamed, facing the worst pain in my life. I was thrown this way and that, blood spurting out of a dozen places in my body. I expelled the foul substance from my mouth, my teeth stained a deep red, and I collapsed to the ground.

I felt fingers scrambling to pry the gun out of my grip, but I resisted and curled up into a ball on the grimy and filthy ground. That did not stop the men from laying into me as hard as they could. Kicks were substituted for punches and each blow was hard enough to create bruises. I shut my eyes and prayed that the agony would end, but an errant foot caught my nose at precisely the right angle and it broke with a horrid noise, causing me to cry out in pain. Blood gushed in a torrent down my face as my nose jutted at an awkward angle. My entire face felt numb and I felt like I was about to black out. My eyelids felt swollen and heavy, my lungs ached, and my body throbbed.

Well done, Sam. Another idiotic blunder to add to your ever-growing resume of fuck-ups.

A foot drove itself into my back and I arched in pain, only for another foot to sink into my stomach, driving the wind out of me. As I doubled over and coughed, the turian's fingers made another grab for the pistol in my left hand, only this time I was in no shape to properly mount a defense. The alien twisted the pistol violently and two of my fingers broke, but I barely felt it. The gun was now in the hands of my attacker while I bled in this godforsaken alley. All three men backed away to give the turian some room. I spat out a red string of drool, slowly trailing my head up to face the dark barrel of my own Phalanx, cradled in the hands of an out of breath turian while he bore down on me.

"Surprise, asshole," the turian cackled as he pulled the trigger, but his face quickly changed from gleeful to confused as he attempted to fire the gun, only to realize that the firing mechanism had been locked this entire time. The alien shook the weapon in his hands, desperate for it to work, while I slowly brought my right hand underneath my jacket, towards the side of my waist.

I gave a tiny laugh, watching the turian grow more and more frustrated as the pistol failed to fire. Guess the bluff worked in some small measure after all. " _Surprise_ ," I breathed as I slid the black knife from its holster and, with a surge of fresh energy, raised myself up off the ground and slashed at the turian's side with a quick movement.

The alien gave a howl as the cold metal pierced his skin underneath his flimsy shirt, creating a ragged tear that immediately gushed hot blue blood. I did my best to turn the blade within the man's body to cause him more pain, and I withdrew the knife before it became too agonizing for me to sit up. As I viciously jerked the knife away, the now blue shining blade caught the turian's hand that held my weapon during the backswing, and came into contact with two of the man's fingers. The Phalanx bounced to the ground, along with the severed digits to ooze blood all over the ground, while the wounded turian screamed and moaned, hastily retreating with his buddies. The trio skirted down the alley and took the nearest corner, frightened that one of their own had gotten seriously injured. I guess I was no longer on their chopping block for the day.

Groaning, I gingerly felt my face after I placed my gun and knife back into their holsters. My fingers came away dark red. Yeah, that was not a good sign. Half of my face felt sticky, my beard was caked with blood, and I knew that there were several bones in my body that were broken. So this was how being hazed at a fraternity felt like. The thought was so inane that I could not help gurgling out a dismal laugh, only to be cut short by the soft crying of the quarian behind me. I had almost forgotten about her.

"Christ… _Almighty_!" I bellowed as I hastened to stand up, only to be met with a fierce headache. Nails! It felt like nails were being driven into my skull! I gave up on trying to stand and crawled over to the quarian instead.

I found myself staring for a bit. The quarian was unlike any other alien I've seen up close, mostly because their race were restricted to form-fitting enviro-suits due to their weak immune systems, completely masking their faces and expressions. They were of similar build to humans, but they only had six fingers and toes in total compared to our ten, their waists were severely thinner, and their legs relied on digitigrade locomotion instead of plantigrade in humans. Because of the suit, though, I could not immediately tell where the quarian was injured, but from the way she was clutching her chest I could guess that she had a broken rib or two. Her dark red visor was still intact, and I could see the faint outline of a nose and two glowing eyes through the smoky glass. Much of the fabric that draped her form was in tatters; she looked pitiful.

" _H-Help…_ " she coughed. " _Help…m-m-me…_ "

The quarian looked to be in a bad way, so I engaged my omni-tool and shouted for it to find me a clinic. Fortunately, it indicated that there was one just a couple blocks down the way. There was no time for an alert to be processed if I knew that I could accomplish the job quicker, despite my injuries. Gritting my teeth and hoping that I didn't black out from the exertion, I lifted the quarian by placing her upper body and the back of her legs atop my arms in such a manner that they did not aggravate my broken fingers. My knees wobbled as I straightened up, but I did not drop her. With the taste of copper in my mouth and my own blood fusing half my face shut, I began the slow stagger out of the alleyway and into the streets of the Citadel.

It must have been afterhours or something because the pedestrian walkways were completely deserted. I was the only soul traversing them while carrying a quarian in my arms. I was huffing and puffing; sweat mixed with my blood in rivulets down my face. My vision was beginning to turn red; my body could not take more abuse.

"Who…" the quarian stirred, "…who…are…?"

"Save your strength," I shushed her. "Don't try to talk." However, I caught a pleading glance from her milky eyes underneath that visor and my expression softened somewhat. "Call me Sam," I whispered, trying to get her to relax.

"N…Ny…Ny…" the quarian tried to speak but she gave a tiny groan and fell limp. Alarmed, I tried to hurry my limping pace, ignoring the new ache that decided to flare up in my legs. I was searching for that big red cross, like it was a beacon of light guiding me on my path.

I did not notice the exact moment when I passed through the sliding doors to the clinic, nor could I feel the nurses gently taking the body of the quarian from my arms, leaving me to wheeze at the relief thankfully. Someone waved a flashlight in front of my eyes and dabbed at my face with a cloth, turning it bloody in an instant. I tried to mumble my way out of being interred here, but I was forcibly, yet gently, lowered into a stretcher.

The last thing that I remember is a slight prick on my arm and a needle gently withdrawing away from the area. At that moment, all I felt was exasperation and a sense of disbelief.

They just sedated me. Motherfucker.

"Not…again…" I slurred before the unwanted blackness swallowed me up.

* * *

Thankfully, I was not sedated as long as the last time.

My shirt was the only article of clothing ruined from my blood but I was still able to wear my jacket and pants. I was only out for half an hour and awake in forty-five minutes. No surgery for this go as there was minimal repair needed for my wounds. When I had awoken, the staff had given me a tablet listing everything that they had done to fix me up this time around so that I could review the procedures myself.

The list revealed a brutal assortment of injuries, to my shock. When the bottle, the first blow of the night, had smashed against my head, it had left glass splinters in my forehead. Those had to be pried out with tweezers and the wounds were sealed with medi-gel. In fact, medi-gel was used for pretty much every injury that I had accumulated, from my bruises to my broken bones. My nose had been realigned while I was out and fused with a direct injection of the miraculous stuff. It was as good as new now – no disfigurement or any scars. Hell, apart from some soreness, it did not feel that I had just gotten my ass whooped.

A couple officers from C-Sec had walked into my room just after I had woken up and asked me all the usual questions pertaining to identifying my assailants. I answered their queries as best as I could, yet I don't think the information I gave them was helpful enough to them in any way, yet they seemed grateful for my cooperation. They had left me in peace which was when I had started to look over the results from my operation.

I soon set the tablet to the side and hopped off the bench in the sparse room, making sure to zip up my jacket. A doctor with a somber smile entered the room just as I was lacing up my shoes.

"Leaving already, Mr. McLeod?" he asked.

"Something like that," I replied. "I'm not really content to stay in one place for very long if I can help it."

"No severe pain? Nothing too debilitating?"

I lifted my arms several times to test them and stretched my body a bit. "Not that much, actually. You guys did good work."

"Well, I'm glad for that," the doctor said, relieved. "Although it would be remiss of me not to mention that you should take it easy for the next couple days. Your bones are technically all healed up but it would be best to play things safely until your body recovers from the trauma."

"No need to tell me twice," I gave a nervous chuckle. "After what happened today, I don't think I'll be going outdoors ever again."

The doctor gave a smile and pointed to my abdomen, dismissing my glib comment. "I noticed that you appeared to have a recent scar on your torso, one that looks to be consistent with a gunshot wound."

"You would be correct. I guess I haven't had the best of luck lately."

The man's face was sympathetic. "Perhaps your string of bad luck ends here. For both our sakes, I do hope that this will be your last visit to a hospital in the near future."

"You and me both, buddy. You and me both."

Personally, I doubted such a thing.

I grabbed my items from the table and made sure to fasten them to my belt. The doctor accompanied me as I left the room and proceeded down the hall to the exit. "Did C-Sec put you through too much of a hassle?" he asked.

"What about?"

"About the people that attacked you, I mean."

I gave a shrug as we rounded a corner. "Not that much. They were actually very accommodating. Because the alley where I got attacked was pretty dark, I was not able to make out their faces quite so well. I don't know if I gave them enough information to find the people responsible, but I do know that I helped them to the best of my ability."

"Well, if you want my opinion, I'd suggest staying clear of the place where you were brutally assaulted. Those were some nasty wounds that you received."

"And again, I'm thankful that you patched me up," I indicated towards the doctor. "I'm able to walk away with nary another scar, all because of you and your staff."

The doctor's expression turned grave. "Yes, but unfortunately, the quarian you brought in was not so lucky. Here, let's make a quick detour."

The man indicated towards a hallway opposite the exit and I dutifully followed, interested to hear what he had to say. We proceeded down the corridor for a couple dozen paces before we stopped right in front of a large window. The doctor gestured me to glance inside but I was not quite sure of what I was supposed to be looking at. A set of white curtains was positioned in front of the window, completely obscuring the view inside but I soon noticed that a silhouette from a figure lying on a bed inside the room was being projected against the curtain quite firmly. The shape was small and slender, humanoid, and then I knew that I was looking at the quarian.

"Is…" I gestured. "Is she…?"

"Dead?" The doctor finished before he gave a shake of his head. "No, she is not. She is just resting. We had to remove her suit so that we could operate on her, though, and her body's recovering at the moment. She's still in her twilight sleep from the sedatives that we gave her – but she's still unmasked. It's a clean room, so there's no risk of her getting an infection. We put the curtain up for her privacy, you understand."

"Wait, _operate_?" I did a double-take. "What kind of operation are we talking about here? I assumed that because of her disoriented state and repeated lapses of consciousness that the worst she had gained was a concussion. A few broken ribs maybe."

"You seem to have some knowledge of these things. Med student?"

"That obvious, huh?" I scratched at my beard.

"Not that many people even know some of the symptoms of a concussion, much less are able to diagnose one. To answer your question, the quarian did have a concussion, most likely from a kick to the head that corresponds to a bruise we found at a potential impact site on her scalp, but that was not the worst injury that we discovered."

"Go on," I said, now feeling a bit nervous.

"The quarian had multiple broken bones, including a cracked tibia and some crushed digital bones. Those we repaired easily with medi-gel, but we first discovered that she was having difficulty breathing when we brought her in the emergency room. We took a quick X-ray and found something terrifying. Apparently, one of her ribs had indeed broken when she was being beaten, but it had splintered in such a way that it had been driven into one of her lungs, puncturing it and causing it to partially collapse."

"Oh _Christ_ ," I muttered as I ran a hand through my hair. "Traumatic pneumothorax."

"Precisely. As you know lung collapses can be fatal if not treated immediately. The quarian's blood pressure had fallen dramatically by the time we wheeled her in, which was an obvious indication that something was wrong apart from the impaired breathing. We had to make an incision in the skin as we could not reach the wound itself via the esophagus and sealed up the tear in the lungs while she received secondary oxygen." The doctor turned toward me, his face utterly serious. "There's no question about it, Mr. McLeod. If you hadn't intervened, that woman would be dead."

My head slowly rotated and I could feel my eyes widen dramatically. My chest tightened as my brain took a long time to process those words. "You're…you're quite sure about that?" I whispered.

"Absolutely. The quarian is _alive_ now, thanks to you. It's only…are you all right, sir?"

"I…I…" I stammered as I raised a shaking hand to wipe the sweat off my brow. I felt clammy, like I was going into shock. "I just need a moment…to process this."

Oh. My. God. It had not occurred to me before, nor did it hit me until after the fact. How could I have been so stupid? Why did I not see it coming?

What have I _done?_ What did I just do? Holy shit, I just changed someone's _future_. I saved someone who would have _died_ without my involvement. By walking into that alley, I diverted all of the attention from the attackers onto me, and I drove them off. That quarian was meant to have died in that alley last night – beaten to death by a bunch of thugs - and I just altered the course of events.

Abruptly, I wheeled about and shuffled towards the exit of the facility. I could hear the nervous click of heels on tiles from the doctor as he tried to catch up to me. "Mr. McLeod, is something the matter? You look progressively worse than usual. Do you want to stay here for a little longer and rest?"

"Absolutely not," I snapped, my own lungs now feeling like _they_ were the ones that were punctured. "I _don't_ want to stay here any longer. But, can you do me a favor, doc?"

"What is it?"

I pointed back to the room where the quarian was resting. "Do _not_ , under any circumstances, mention to her my name when she wakes up."

"Sir, you understand that I'm obliged to doctor-patient confidentiality but in this case, I'm a little confused as to you not wanting the quarian to know exactly who saved her. I would guess that such a fact would be the first thing she will ask for when she regains consciousness."

"Trust me," I hissed. "It will be better for everyone if I remain as anonymous as possible. Give her my first name if you must, but do not utter anything more than that. Promise me this, doc. Please."

The doctor swallowed hard, a noticeable lump traveling down his throat. "As you wish, Mr. McLeod. I will not say a word to her."

"I appreciate it," I said as I shook the man's hand. "Thank you for your assistance in the matter."

I could not get out of the hospital fast enough. As soon as I exited the doors, I felt immeasurably sick once again and I knew what was coming next. I double-timed it over to a nearby waste receptacle and bent my head just in time for me to vomit into it. I could hear disgusted noises coming from passerby, but I was too engrossed in puking my guts up to care. As soon as it ended, I slumped onto a bench, that terrible feeling of dread causing my skin to prickle uncomfortably.

I _hated_ throwing up. Hated it! Yet this was the second time in a week that I had done it. I just felt so sick at this point, of thinking that I had done the right thing and having it blow up in my face. It was a horrible sensation, one that rooted me down on the bench for me to wallow in my misery.

Regret. That's what enveloped me. Just that sinking feeling of having screwed up so horribly that I found it hard to do anything else. I mean, for god's sake, Sam, you promised yourself that you wouldn't get involved in anything at all! Apparently I had a lapse of judgment in thinking that avoiding the main plot of the games would be the limit in terms of my participation. Well, now I've gone and done it by saving the life of a person who would have died in this universe otherwise. I should have planned this more thoroughly! What if that quarian was going to somehow be critical to the main plot, now that she didn't die? I could have fucked over everyone just from that simple act. Shit!

I felt like I was going to throw up again, but I didn't. Instead I sat on the bench for a little while longer, once again pondering if all I would ever do was to interfere with the narrative and mess everything up. If that was the case, then I should just do the honorable thing and make a second attempt at killing myself so that I don't end up disrupting anything else.

But there was still the flip side of the coin. Maybe that quarian's survival would do nothing to dramatically change the future. Maybe I would have a lucky break, but I would never know the definitive results of my work unless I saw them through until the end. Now I had a good reason to live, one that combated the desire to commit suicide head-on. Unable to come up with a definitive argument for offing myself again, I begrudgingly began to shuffle back home. I guess I could hang around and witness the fruits of my labor.

All this thought about suicide was giving me another headache. I needed a nap to clear my head and rest my stomach. I could use a smoke as well.

I'm just the embodiment of optimism, am I right?

* * *

 **A/N: Another chapter in and Sam already broke one of his rules. That man just can't do anything right.**

 **What I've noticed in a lot of SI stories that I've perused, it always seems like the protagonist goes from being a wimp to being a master of all forms of combat without any prior training and without any character development. Sam, on the other hand, is going to get his ass handed to him whenever he gets into a brawl. It's intentional that way so as his own development stays within realistic limits. He's going to get hurt because he's a sloppy and untrained fighter, which is an aspect usually glossed over in these stories: the protagonist's mortality.**

 **To give you an update on how this story is doing, you guys helped push the views past 1,000 just yesterday. That's pretty impressive for being only three chapters in at the time, so a big thank you to everyone reading this story. Also, keep the reviews coming! I look forward to feedback like that the most.**

 **One more thing, to get an idea of what the audience is looking for, please tell me what it is about Sam's character that you really like. Conversely, if there is anything that could be improved with his character (except telling him to lighten up - he's glum for a reason!) feel free to give out a recommendation.**

 **I look forward to seeing where this leads.**


	5. Chapter 5: Middling Xenophilia

The day started out in a rather subdued fashion for me. I had finished washing my face in the sink after taking my regular morning shower and blindly groped out for a rag so that I could dry myself off. The padded fabric felt nice against my tender skin and I groaned as I pressed the cloth deeper into my face. With a grimace, I shook my shoulders like a dog to get rid of the kinks that the shower had not been able to eradicate and looked at myself in the mirror after I had finished clearing the mist off from it.

I had certainly seen better days, I can tell you that right now. On the other hand, even though it had been three days since I had been beaten up, the wounds that I had acquired looked like faint marks at this point – all thanks to the natural wonders that was medi-gel. One of these days I was going to have to look up exactly what was in that substance that caused any and all wounds to heal miraculously. The medical portion of my brain was fascinated by it, yet simultaneously disappointed at how easy the jobs of doctors had become in the future. Knowing the course of most medical discoveries, I would have to wager that the active ingredient in medi-gel was probably something incredibly addictive and poisonous to anyone's body otherwise. Kind of like the relationship between opiates and heroin, in a sense.

My bruises had faded completely, my broken nose and fingers felt as good as new, and even the frightful gashes that had been caused from a liquor bottle being broken upside my head were faint lines at this point. I prodded my face gently, testing my injuries to see if there was still any residual damage. A quick check produced no worrying results, so that was something at least. No reconstructive surgery for me, thankfully.

So why didn't I feel so glad at that?

"Oh, I don't know, Sam," I spoke to my reflection in the mirror. "Maybe it's because you saved the life of an alien who was supposed to have died in this timeline? Yeah, that might not have been one of your best laid plans there, buddy."

" _Quit your bitching_ ," my reflection scoffed in a taunting manner. " _You made your choice and now you have to live it. You better grow the fuck up because you're acting like a child. You saved someone from death. Period. Where's the shame in that?_ "

I backed up a step and pointed a finger across the way. " _You_ don't get to dictate my life. Who knows if that quarian will bring more harm than good to people? What if I've just indirectly sealed the fates of an exponential amount of people? I could have just fucked everyone in this galaxy from my mistake, so don't pretend that I don't have to worry."

" _Mistake? I can't tell if you're being serious or if some part of you wants the worst to happen so that you could prove yourself correct. You actually think that one quarian is somehow going to undo an intricate series of events that required multiple individuals to pull off?_ "

"Don't forget," I grimaced at my distorted and foggy doppelganger, "it only took one person to save this galaxy from extinction. One. Out of trillions. And one person can fuck all of it up. Anything could happen at this point and if the worst should come to pass, then it will be all my fault."

" _Now you're speaking like you actually have a claim in this universe. I thought you were not invested in your little reality-swap?_ "

One of the cons of speaking with myself was that both of us could play the logic game. I knew that I could not mount a sufficient defense in such an argument, least of all from an omnipresent offshoot of a mind seeking a conversationalist to engage with. My only retort against myself was to simply give a scowl, turn my back to the bathroom and flip the mirror off as I departed.

Oh yeah, Sam. That'll show him.

I had thrown a robe around me at this point and I walked into the kitchen before I got myself dressed for the day. The chronometer was indicating that it was approaching the early afternoon on the Citadel (apparently I had slept through breakfast), but the confusing thing was that the time zones on the Citadel did not correspond to the twenty-four hour cycle that was present on Earth, which had been and is still a source of bewilderment for me. Apparently the standard measurement of time was known as a GSD, a Galactic Standard Day, and that it only lasted for _twenty_ Earth-hours on the Citadel, thus causing my sleep habits to slowly shift my resting habits bit by bit across the days. Not so much jet lag but _galaxy_ lag, if you will. This had been a growing problem recently but the only thing I could do to modify my sleep pattern was to tough it out and let my body adapt a day at a time.

Anyway, since I was now up and had properly missed my favorite meal of the day, I guess there was nothing to do but to forge my own path. The best thing about breakfast is that it can be made at any hour of the day. That's one of the benefits to living by yourself, no one can tell you what to do. I proceeded at my own pace and prepared myself a pair of eggs, over hard, and some toast. I coated the eggs with shredded cheese and heavily buttered the bread. To top it off, I got myself a glass from the cupboard and poured myself some whisky, not orange juice, because why not?

Breakfast of champions.

I quickly demolished my food, leaving me to sip at my drink. It seemed to suit the current picture of me: recently battered single working man drinking alone. At least I knew my relative limits. I took too big of a swallow and made a face after I gave out an exaggerated gagging noise. Trust me, _everyone_ is wincing when they down hard liquor. We've just learned to control our facial expressions better over time.

Still cradling my drink, I got up from the table that I was eating at and headed over to my room so that I could dress in some real clothes instead of just a robe like a bum. I shrugged the loose garment off as I crossed the threshold, leaving it to puddle at the floor. As I approached my bed, I slowed my pace and held my glass in both hands as I sourly looked down at the object that currently was making a tiny indent upon the soft comforter. With a slow snort from my nostrils, I set my whisky down on a nearby desk and gradually sat beside the Phalanx pistol that was precariously close to slipping off the edge of the bed. Before that could happen, I scooped it up from where it had been laying and held it in my hands almost reverently, like it was a prayer book.

I knew that the forty-eight hour block on the gun's firing mechanism had been lifted by this time and that it was as deadly as any other pistol right now, but somehow I was not assuaged. I picked the weapon up and fitted my finger nicely on top of the trigger. The grip felt really natural, the weight was just right. Make no mistake, this was not some trinket to be bought and looked at, this was a deadly instrument of murder and I had to respect it. If the safety were not on, I could put a bullet through the wall just by clenching down on the trigger, potentially killing someone. Just like the projectile weapons of my time, only a hell of a lot more deadly. Oh, if only I had this capability three days ago when I was getting my ass handed to me, then I suspect that I would not have had pieces of glass embedded into the skin of my skull. Timing is everything, right?

Even though I was doing my best to be appreciative of the power I currently wielded, I was being constantly thrown off by the fact that it looked just like a movie prop with the white plastic, silver finish, and little blue lights on the sides. What was wrong with coloring this thing black and making it look a little more rugged? The media in 2015 had pretty much ruined me with regards to visualizing violence and to come here and see the populace utilize guns that looked straight out of a crappy sci-fi television show was not giving me a sense of danger at all. That was a problem, for if I did not start taking things seriously then I could wind up being brutally assaulted again or worse.

Quite the situation that I'm in, and the logic stands. I _should_ be more respectful of my surroundings. I _should_ take my predicament more seriously. I just need to keep at the forefront of my mind that, even though I'm armed now, I'm not invincible. I'm nowhere near being a one man wrecking crew, I can tell you that. I've owned guns for years and have never experienced any trouble with having one in my possession before. Same rules here, really. Just act smart and stay away from any places where conflicts could arise and I'll be fine. Common-fucking-sense.

Now I was really pining to share this experience with someone besides a decent therapist. All of this was way too real for me to keep bottled inside. Where was Taylor when I needed her? She was a great listener and way smarter than me, if I'm going to be honest. If the two of us were tackling this problem of surviving in this foreign land together, I'd reckon that we would be an unstoppable force in the _Mass Effect_ universe. Alas, it's just me here. The one who got the shaft.

I've heard a lot of sibling horror stories before but Taylor was probably one of the best sisters one could have. Always good memories with her, never bad. The bond we had as family was as strong as one could imagine and I don't think anyone other than our parents understood that well. Actually, I bought my first pistol shortly after Taylor left home, for protection in the wake of her absence, you see. The point being, it was always nice having a protective older sibling constantly watch your back all the time and have them share the same interests as you. The gun was just a paltry substitute for an assurance of safety. If she knew that I was experiencing this whole _Mass Effect_ episode, she would be absolutely jealous of me, livid with envy. Heh, I could kill to see her face right now. Also, I could kill to swap places.

In fact, those were some of the best memories from my previous life; whenever I was with my sister. Towards the end of high school for Taylor, I would constantly be hanging out with my group of friends and Taylor's group of friends, essentially combining everyone into one giant group, and just going around town and shooting the shit, as the saying goes. It was probably convenient for everyone that the most recent guy she was dating at that time happened to be my best friend, a good guy called Mark. He had the coveted spot among my peers as the one who was dating Sam's hot sister. Christ, they would never let me get over that.

I'm not going to lie, I missed that group terribly. We had all grown so far apart over the years in such a short time. How had that happened?

I mean, I could still vividly picture in my mind going to a gathering at Mark's house, stealing liquor bottles from his parents' cabinet and roasting marshmallows over a fire pit in his backyard. I could hear the music blaring from a pair of crappy speakers almost as if it was pathetically urging a group of awkward teenagers to get up and dance to whatever Top 40 Hit was being projected at the time. And, since we would most likely be drunk, we took the bait that the music offered. Guys and girls paired up on a makeshift dance floor, the laughing became raucous, and more liquor was consumed. The fact that said liquor caused most of the partygoers to throw up due to overindulgence, including me, was just a minor inconvenience compared to an entire night of fun.

And as usual, because Taylor was one of the few sensible people of the group, she would roll her eyes, kiss her boyfriend goodnight (eliciting eye rolling from my end) and promptly take me home, eliciting some half-hearted whining from me in the process. The way I see it now, Taylor was not being a killjoy, she was just really observant about my drunken self and knew when to stop before I did. Like I said, she's the smarter one.

Why couldn't things go back to the way they were before? Hanging out with my friends back home never failed to bring me happiness – something that I would give anything for in order to relive. Alas, I was stuck in a universe where such encounters with my peers probably never even happened to begin with. I had to contend with what was ahead of me all by myself and yes, thinking about all this definitely made me feel a lot worse.

My expression having been unchanged throughout my reminiscence, I shook my head to loosen up my frozen facial features. I then deposited the Phalanx back onto the bed and swiftly got dressed, but there was still the need to rid myself of those distracting thoughts linking me to my past life. I had whisky, which I knew would help, but I still needed another part of the equation for me to lose myself in. Drinking usually needed an accompaniment for the process to be truly effective. I just needed to figure out a suitable pairing.

Movies! Yes, of course, I'll just watch a movie from the billions of choices that I had on demand. Losing myself in a world completely separate from my own via parking my ass in front of a screen was a sure-fire way to turn off my brain in order to achieve immersion. Fortunately, I had an idea of what I wanted to watch this time and found my chosen film very quickly. I was starting to get used to this user interface on my omni-tool, come to think of it.

I wondered if _Avatar II_ was an improvement upon its predecessor.

* * *

Once my mind had been reset by watching a medium that did nothing to engage my brain cells, I felt sufficiently more relaxed now that I was not concentrating on my current stressors. On the other hand, since the film that I had just watched had gone over three hours in total running time, it was now approaching the early evening for the Citadel. Waking hours for the night owls. I was a tad bored of watching any more movies and now that I had a gun that could actually provide me with a modicum of protection, I guess I could stand a little personal interaction, all things considered.

I did not want to venture too far, but luckily my omni-tool was indicating that there was a very popular bar about a five-minute walk away from my apartment. Apparently it was large, hip, and catered a wide array of alcohol for its clients of various races. Sounded good to me. I strapped my pistol to my waist, threw on a leather jacket to give these skintight clothes some element of bagginess and headed out at a brisk pace.

It was easy to find the bar, seeing as the entrance was reverberating from the bass hits of dance music and the strobe lights flickering all over the front doors. Not really the most conducive bar if you were seizure-prone or particularly anxious in social settings. It was still early in the day where a line had not formed yet outside so I got by the bouncers rather quickly after I showed them my identification and paid the cover fee. As soon as I entered, the resulting presentation caused me to immediately have flashbacks to every single science-fiction cantina scene in every single movie ever.

How can I describe it properly? For starters, neon lighting wrapped around every single corner and curve of the architecture, creating a very chaotic and dream-like atmosphere. Lights strobed, and red and blue tiles gradually warmed and cooled in time with the beat from the speakers. Already I was feeling drunk from staring at the place. A lovely fountain was spewing water in a pool filled with fish which gave a very classical touch to an overall modern establishment. In this case, the melding of the two styles worked and I was actually able to appreciate the atmosphere. It really did feel like I was in a futuristic bar that did not seem at all campy.

Then there was the clientele that threw me off. I have seen all the species of aliens before when I was wandering around on the Citadel, but to witness all of them interacting in such an environment was quite the experience, let me tell you. Humans and asari were tearing up the dance floor, two krogan were engaged in a hearty exchange, turians and salarians sat reclined in their plush booths, and the hanar bartender's tentacles were a blur as it fixed drinks for multiple customers at once.

I scratched at my head in wonderment. " _What in the name of all that is holy…?"_ I whispered to myself, clearly overwhelmed.

Now aware that I was clogging up the entrance for the people behind me, I nervously shuffled around, trying to take in everything before I went up to order a drink. I tried to look inconspicuous as I people-watched but I think that my constantly gaping mouth was probably drawing a bit more attention to myself than I would have liked.

A rather macho human male, sweaty from dancing, slid past me and slipped into a booth occupied by another human male and two asari, my gaze following him. I was not prepared for what happened next because the two men immediately scooted next to each other and began to kiss passionately. I blinked in surprise. Did I not read the description of this place right and had somehow ended up in a gay bar? Well, no, I don't think that it was because the men then broke off and then began to make out with the two asari in the booth, all four of them engaged in some bizarre make-out session that looked way more touchy-feely than I had been subconsciously expecting. I'm pretty sure that their hands were grabbing at places most people would not normally dare to venture out in public.

"Huh," I said as I gave a shrug. "Don't really see that every day."

Apparently I was going to see a lot more of it because as I focused my attention around the room, I could see several partners hooking up in my midst. I saw heterosexual couples, homosexual couples, and many interracial couples all trying to slide their tongues down their partner's throat.

Maybe everyone was just bisexual in the future.

The implications of this entire ordeal were positive, at least. Taking into account the level of tolerance people gave in regards to sexual orientation here must mean that the stupid rule regarding the treatment status of same-sex partners had finally been resolved and that such pairings were allowed in this point in time. That signified that this future was actually rather progressive in the fact that sexuality here was not that big of an issue as people made it out to be back where I came from. I had no problem with people of a sexual orientation different than mine before and I did not have a problem with it now – it was just a little surprising to see people so open about it when homo and bisexuality was just starting to become more widespread with its acceptance, at least in America.

I backed up a little bit and collided with a nearby patron. I spun around quickly and came face to face with an armored turian, a cop judging by his badge, attempting to keep the contents of his glass all in one place.

"Whoops," I hastily said. "Sorry about that, officer."

"It's no problem," the turian waved off. He had blue face paint marking his features and one of his eyes was covered by a piece of blue glass that looked like a futuristic eyepatch. A targeting eyepiece perhaps?

"What, they let you guys drink on duty?" I asked as I pointed to the glass.

The turian chuckled. "I'm off duty, actually. We're people too, you know? I probably should take the badge off if all it does is make people nervous around here, though."

"People don't like C-Sec in bars?"

" _No one_ likes C-Sec coming in anywhere," the turian shrugged as he gave a grand sweep with his arm. "It's the first reaction anyone has when they feel that they're under scrutiny. Whenever a cop or a detective walks into an establishment everyone suddenly gets all paranoid like they did something wrong."

"Yeah, like following the speed limit on the highway with one of you guys tailgating me, hoping that I'll slip up," I muttered.

"What's that?" the turian tilted his head.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," I corrected. "Just talking to myself."

"Right," the turian squinted his eyes, unconvinced. He drained his glass and set the empty container on a tray that a passing waitress was holding. "Can't really spend the entire night drinking here. At any rate, I should probably head off. Have a safe night, sir."

"Of course," I nodded as I focused on the turian's badge again for a name. "You too, Detective…Vakarian."

I swore I knew that name from somewhere. Before I could inquire further and jog my memory, the cop had disappeared through the crowd and back out the door from where I had just entered from. Damn, missed my chance.

I broke off from my train of thought and began walking back to the bar again. I was still a little too mentally enclosed for me to enjoy the music, but it was odd that I happened to recognize the current track that was playing in the room. Unless my ears deceived me, it was definitely a song performed by a popular trip-hop group back from the late 1990s. Either hundred-fifty-plus-year old music was really popular for this crowd, or maybe it was just possible that the band-in-question's sound was simply ahead of its time and that only now were wider audiences beginning to appreciate it. Whatever, at least these guys had some good taste in music.

I must not have been paying attention because before I knew it, a small figure had nearly smashed into me (in this cramped area, it was hard enough trying to have a bubble of space all to yourself) and it was only because of the way she was looking at me did I realize that this was no accident.

"Hey, you!" a blue-haired female human gushed as she gave one of those smiles so large that it looked fake. "What's happening?"

"Oh…nothing, you!" I said as I struggled to smile in return, my lips feeling like they were being chiseled out of marble for that was how stiff they felt. Yes, my reply was terrible but what else was I going to say when put into a boiling pot like this?

"You never called me after that night, baby," the woman pouted as she started to tug at my jacket zipper. "I was beginning to wonder if you forgot about me."

"What? No, never! How could you think I forgot about you?" I defended, now feeling more and more awkward as I knew I was failing to see the bigger picture here. For starters, I didn't even know this woman's name. I was not so naïve to miss the meaning behind her sensual tone. It would probably not be too far-fetched to assume that I had apparently slept with her for one night…or several. Personally, from the way this woman was starting to rub my clothed chest, she seemed way too clingy for my taste. The other me apparently liked to settle, judging from the results here. If I ever met my other consciousness, I was going to have a little talking-to about not sticking his dick in crazy. The woman's presence though, combined with the sweaty mob of dancing aliens around me was making me feel a little claustrophobic. I desperately needed an out.

"Well, you not calling was a big hint," she simpered. "But it's okay. I'm willing to forgive you, big guy, if you'll do something for me."

I hoped it was recommending a different stylist. Who am I kidding? It's definitely sexual favors she was referring to, but if I played dumb, that would probably entice her to leave me alone. It would definitely get me out of trying to guess her name.

But before I could stammer out a lame reply, salvation arrived in the form of a lanky young man of about my age. He was wearing simple but trendy clothing and he threw an arm around my shoulders like we were old buddies or something. With his other hand he gave the woman a light shove as he flashed a brilliant smile in her direction.

"Get the fuck out of here, Jasmine. Guys' night only." The man elbowed me in the ribs jokingly, almost like he knew me. "Sam and I have got better things to do than your lame ass so stop bugging him for a second helping. It ain't gonna happen."

The woman named Jasmine put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Well, I didn't see _you_ complaining when I was sucking your dick in the bathroom, Josh Kinney! You and your _'friend'_ can go fuck yourselves, for all I care. The both of you probably _are_ gay, come to think of it."

This woman was getting more and more charming by the minute.

Instead of being mad, Josh gave out a laugh and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, whoa, hey! If I remember correctly, that you told us if we went along with you for a night that you would stop bothering us. If you're so desperate for sex, you can whore yourself out in Chora's Den. I hear the clients there love impressionable human women."

"Both of you can suck a bag of dicks," Jasmine spat as she abruptly turned around, giving us the finger as she departed. When she disappeared into the throng, I let out a breath that I didn't even realize that I had been holding.

"Thanks for that, man," I said. "Don't exactly know what I did to deserve that, but it was weird nonetheless."

"Ah, she's been bothering everyone all afternoon," Josh shrugged. "Crazy horny bitch. Guess now I finally had the courage to tell her off. Anyway, what's new, dude? Been ages since I saw you last."

So Josh _did_ know me. What was it going to take for me to go somewhere that I could be completely anonymous? Or was it that my reputation had spread across the entire station that I had a much wider circle of contacts than I anticipated? Luckily I was starting to get into the groove of bullshitting.

"Had a major stomachache the other day," I said while I unconsciously patted the scar on my abdomen. "Felt like I had a hole in me."

"Shit, man, I would have sent you something," Josh said as he led me over to the bar where we took two unoccupied seats.

"I got over it easily enough," I replied, finding it odd just how easy it was to talk to this person who I technically had never met before. "Believe me, the headache I received afterward was nothing."

"That still from the stomachache or from work?"

"The stomachache. I think I quit my job a few days ago."

Josh looked surprised and pleased. "You quit? Seriously? Damn, man. Good for you!"

"I…what?" I stammered.

"Yeah, you've been talking for months at how working for that firm was nothing but a way to suck precious hours of your life away like some…dastardly…"

"Leech?" I finished, trying to be helpful.

"…Life-sucker!" Josh exclaimed instead, causing a few of my facial muscles to wilt.

"Yeah, well," I began to tap my fingers against the counter, "I felt that it was high time that I got out of there. Hell, I didn't even know what I was doing half the time. I'm actually getting a headache now just thinking back to that awful place."

That last sentence was the most untrue statement. I felt fine but I had the idea that I needed to sell my situation to Josh to make it more believable. He appeared to buy it.

"Well, that's a problem that can be solved by one thing," Josh grinned.

"Vicodin?"

"Um, yes that does work, but I was thinking of booze instead. _Garçon!"_

Josh snapped his fingers and the hanar bartender came floating over. I had put no thought into what I wanted to drink – a problem exacerbated by the fact that I recognized virtually zero of the liquor labels being displayed on the back wall, but Josh had that problem covered for me.

"Line up a row of six whisky shots of the stuff right there, my good man!"

"This one is happy to serve," the hanar said dreamily. I had never heard a hanar speak before and as such, I could not tell where its mouth was. As far as I knew, I was staring at an enlarged jellyfish that happened to be sentient. Christ, galactic life was just a series of convoluted messes.

The hanar's tentacles quickly wrapped around two bottles while its other appendages expertly lined up six shot glasses, three for the both of us. With three simultaneous dips of the bottle, the glasses were filled in seconds and I raised the first one at the same time as Josh.

"To your good health," Josh smirked before he downed his first shot.

"Amen to that," I muttered under my breath before I did the same. Ugh, this whisky was godawful. I made a face and shuddered at the severe burning. It felt like my throat was dissolving. Add to the fact that the aftertaste was complete shit as well. What kind of distillery were these bozos running that could produce such swill like this?

Josh, on the other hand, was grinning as he watched me try not to splutter. "Good shit, huh?" he laughed. That fucker. "Come on, let's do the next two one after the other!"

Without waiting for me, Josh gulped his last shots down like it was water. I was barely getting over the effects from the first sample, but I was still wired to keep up appearances and project a sense of normalcy about me, even if the end result was somewhat vague. I scrunched my eyes and managed to down the next shot without incident but on the third one a bit traveled down the wrong pipe, causing me to immediately cough, and I had to stifle my mouth with my sleeve as I tried not to spew whisky all over the counter.

"Agh!" I hacked out. "I hope you'll forgive me if I didn't find it to be as great as you thought."

"That's the point!" Josh laughed. "You've always been so elitist about what you drink that I thought I should get you back one of these days. Your reaction was a little more polite than I expected, you snob. I thought you were going to curse me out for ordering this batarian shit."

"Batarian?" I wheezed. "Why would you put yourself through that abuse, ordering alcohol that aliens made?"

"Just to get a rise out of you. And this batarian stuff was all I had to drink back in my college days on a meager payroll. A tolerance can be built, believe it or not." He wiped his mouth and banged a fist down on the table. "Okay, no more games. Let's have a _real_ drink, with _real_ honest-to-god human whisky this time."

"Anything to get this taste out of my mouth," I grumbled as I rubbed my throat.

"That can be arranged," Josh grinned. "Oy, bartender! We need to get fucked up over here!"

* * *

A while later, Josh and I had delegated our now intoxicated selves to the rear portion of the establishment, which was titled the "Gentleman's Wing." No need to explain what that meant. The two of us were reclining in a very comfortable and plush booth, nursing our whisky sours, while a human on a stage directly in front of us was dancing and taking her time in stripping off her clothes while we watched.

Before then, though, a couple of asari had joined up and accompanied us inside, now extending our group to a foursome. Josh had not seemed at all surprised, which made me determine that this sort of encounter was planned. A double-date, perhaps? I hoped not. A strip club was not exactly my location of choice to have a date – and it's a sad day when I have to point that out. Regardless, the two asari were now with us at the booth, with Josh and I in the middle and an asari each flanking us. The one currently sitting next to me, an honestly lovely girl by the name of Razena, was trying to cuddle with me and constantly batted her eyelashes in my direction. I was not drunk enough to miss that an _alien_ was trying to flirt with me. It was hard to mistake the signals for anything else, unless asari had different methods of courtship in mind that I was currently not privy to. It was taking a little time for me to process this information, so I endeavored to remain polite and not hurt this woman's feelings for the night. Lord knows I paid for it the last time I mouthed off.

I've honestly never been a fan of strip clubs. Going to one with company makes the experience a lot more enjoyable (going alone is just sad) but all they were to me were places that I had to pay only to get blue balls for the night. That's why I never paid for any private dances in my life, nor did I ever want to. Still, I will admit that there is an allure in watching semi-attractive women take their clothes off, but the setting here was so impersonal and I was drunk enough that I found that I just did not _care_ about the nudity or the women surrounding me.

Since I was watching this girl put on a show and that I wanted to be polite, I leaned over and tapped my new credit chit against the electronic pad at the base of the platform and a credit automatically was deducted from my account and deposited into the coffers of the club. I suppose that was their version of "making it rain" here. Jesus, I couldn't even throw fistfuls of cash around like an asshole anymore at these places.

Speaking of assholes, the girl shot me a dazzling smile for me spending all of one credit on her and she bent over as she pulled her underwear down, giving me an unobstructed view of her birth canal. I was not some sexed-up teenager anymore, I've seen quite a few snatches in my time and I was drunk enough that no part of my body betrayed any sort of reaction. Hell, the best I could see right now was just a pinkish blur, courtesy of the whisky that I've been consuming throughout the night. The revolving neon lights continuously altering the illumination were not helping my vision out, either.

The current song ended and another dancer took the human's place, a female turian this time. What happened next was some sort of outlandish presentation that I could not determine if it was meant to be sexual in any way. In fact, sexy was probably not the word I would choose to describe it. What the turian was doing was engaging in a very aggressive dance by herself, alternating between furiously tearing and slowly sliding what little garments she wore off. The female became nude very quickly, but I guess that because turians were not mammalian to begin with, they lacked a few bits and pieces that I would normally find attractive on a woman.

Breasts. I'm talking about breasts here, and the turian had none. As far as I could tell, this was not just an isolated incident, but apparently turians had nothing resembling mammary glands at all. I don't think that I could distinguish if the female turian had any reproductive organs that resembled what I would normally find on a human. The differences were…unsettling, and the whole experience was more anatomical than erotic. To each his own, I suppose.

"You know what I don't get?" Josh asked as he leaned over in my direction as we both continued to stare at the stripper.

"What's that?"

"Well, because humans are relatively new to this whole 'united galaxy' and shit, I'm a little surprised at how willing some places try to cater to our needs."

"What, you're talking about the dancer here?"

"Yes, that's right," Josh nodded as he motioned with his head in the direction of the turian stripper. "Statistically, you know how many humans admit that they've been with turian partners?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

"Two percent," Josh said like such a conversation held more importance than I gave it credit for. "Just two percent."

"Of the people that admitted it," I pointed out.

The female turian was humping one her undergarments by now, but I was not paying her much mind by now and nor was Josh.

"The point of all this is," Josh leaned in close, "is that our arrival caused all the aliens to adjust to a new consumer base. We're fresh, we're interesting to them, and we have not been collectively jaded from our experiences with otherworldly life yet, which makes us incredibly susceptible in the economic sense. Take the smut industry, just as an example. In order to gain on market share – capitalize upon it – the aliens adjust their routines to try and whore themselves out in a fashion that mimics what they think us humans are into."

"And what's the problem with that?"

Josh looked surprised, like I shouldn't have to be asking him that. "I'll tell you what the problem is. It's that nothing they do is going to work. I mean, look at this dancer. Does a turian immediately strike you as attractive? At first glance?"

"Not really," I shrugged before I looked up at the ceiling in thought. "But I don't see having a relationship with one as being that big of a deal in this climate."

"No, of course not," Josh shook his head emphatically. "Actually, some people might still frown upon it, but such interracial relationships are becoming more and more commonplace very quickly. The point is, that first impressions are everything. You see several aliens try to market themselves as potential suitors for humans when most of the time our narrow view of rating a person's looks is a huge factor into determining if we're going to sleep with one of them. I'm not saying that having relations with turians is impossible, I'm just saying that it seems like they're putting in a lot of effort to try and persuade us to mate with them when in fact our prejudices have to consistently battle to resist such a notion."

"Yeah," I agreed as I took a sip of my drink. "Us humans do have a rather notorious history of being prejudiced. We have the issues between sexes, races, and sexual orientation on our resume as proof that it takes us a long time to adapt. Throwing in aliens as the newest issue to plague our sensibilities seems like it will be a bigger hurdle to adapt. My diagnosis, anyway."

"Oh stop with the secretive chatting, you two," the asari next to Josh interrupted – the one whose name I already forgot. "Why not pay a little more attention to me? I thought you wanted this."

"Baby, I do want this," Josh defended. "But I haven't seen this joker in a long time. Can't I have some time to have a conversation with my friend?" To me he gave a subtle glance with his eyes from the asari leaning against me and back to me face. He mouthed, " _She's totally into you, dude_."

"No, you cannot," the asari said seductively before she forcefully brought his head over to hers so that they could begin in a carnal exploration of each other's mouth with their tongues. That was certainly quick. I raised my eyebrows once in surprise before glancing over at the asari who was sidling her body against mine (the turian stripper had been long forgotten by now). It took me a bit to recall her name again – Razena – but I soon felt confident enough that I wasn't going to make a big blunder like I did with Elizabeth back on Earth.

"She did have a point," Razena moped as she began walking her fingers up my arm.

"What point might that be?" I asked mildly.

"You don't seem to be paying much attention to me either."

Right. That. I think I had an idea of where this was going, but better to drag this out for a bit and make absolutely sure. "So, how much attention _should_ I be giving you?"

"Oh, I don't know," the asari replied absentmindedly. "A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"A lot."

I drained my glass in frustration before giving a tiny shake as the alcohol traveled down my gullet. "Would said level of attention presumably reach appropriate levels if I was to invite you back to my place?"

"Well…" Razena screwed up her eyes in mock concentration, deliberately holding back her answer. "You are cute enough, so I think I'd be inclined to agree and take you up on such an offer."

I don't think there was any other way that this situation could be spun: an alien was practically throwing herself upon me to have sex. If this wasn't as real as I could determine, I would laugh at this obviously nerdy pipe-dream that had presented itself to me on a silver platter. Maybe I was just drunk enough that I was able to dismiss the woman's alien characteristics – despite the blue skin and crests adorning her scalp, there was not much that distinguished Razena from being a human. Or there was just some crude notion that I had that was yearning to have sex with an alien just for bragging rights. I was not in a particularly right frame of mind at the time so I can't really pinpoint the exact catalyst for such a decision. I also didn't think that this person was critically important to the timeline, so I wagered that I would be safe for this little tryst. I was sober enough to be considering _that,_ at least.

What the hell, no one lives forever.

I set the glass down on the table and motioned for Razena to stand up so that I could follow.

* * *

Let me be clear on this: if I had been sober, this entire situation would have played out a lot differently.

The short walk over to the apartment complex played out in relative silence, which should have been enough time for me to see the error of my ways, or more importantly what I was about to do, but that opportunity came and went. When Razena and I arrived at my place after disembarking from the lift, I gestured for her to start getting ready while I went into my room to change into something a little more comfortable. Now, alarm bells should have been going off in my head at this time, but since the alcohol had overpowered all of my common sense, the only functioning part of my brain was jumping up and down screaming, "Oh yeah! Sexy time!"

Drunk Sam can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.

I had only pulled off my shirt at this time before I heard a noise from the doorway. I turned around and my tipsy brain stopped working for a few seconds. Razena was standing in the threshold – stark naked – posing seductively so that I could look at her body for a quick moment. In terms of a body, I do have to admit that it was a nice one. The contours were human-like and I could see that asari were very anatomically similar to human women, to my relief. Razena was slender and the lighting from the half-opened windows bathed her back with a multicolored glow. Before I could enjoy the sight of her some more, she practically ran up to me and pushed me down onto the bed so that she could tear the rest of my clothes off.

Her skin felt weird to the touch. It was not at all like human flesh; it was scaly, like a snake's but a lot less pronounced and cooler in temperature to my own skin. It was smooth and yielded nicely to my own touch, but it kept reminding me of who I was with and what she really was. It was a very odd sensation.

Here's where things started to get weird for me. It was about the time when Razena started kissing me, did I get a tiny little twitch in my head. The idea that I was technically engaging in a form of bestiality was not lost on me. Then again, I suppose that acts between different species were not exactly taboo in this universe and that I was still operating on a mindset rooted in the year 2015. But still, even then loads of science fiction and fantasy media had been doing a good job in indoctrinating the population by promoting interspecies relationships for years. Doesn't mean that most of those examples were even _good_ , mind you.

So, right now you have two equally intoxicated individuals, a human and an asari, in bed together in the very beginnings of coitus and no, I was not at all excited. Razena was going wild as she was kissing all over my face, but in contrast, I was doing very little to kiss her back. I don't know, it's like something was weighing me down from participating at her energy level. I didn't feel tired or anything like that, which was odd. Detached, numb, aloof. Everything was murky for me like a perpetual fog was clouding my vision and that I had been submerged in liquid. This felt wrong to me.

I was still lucid enough that I was still a little bit aroused from having a naked woman, alienness be damned, atop me. Who wouldn't? In intimate moments like these, the body was the one doing all the talking. Apparently Razena felt like skipping the foreplay for the night and the next thing I knew, I was inside her as she began to bounce atop me, wasting no time in cutting to the chase.

She had definitely done this before, as evident by her quick and practiced movements. There was none of the awkwardness ensuing from what would have been the archetypal introduction of a maiden to sex. The lusty moans erupting from Razena's mouth were undoubtedly ones allowed to burst free after a good amount of experience. She seemed to be enjoying it so far which was more than I could say for myself.

There is some joy to be had with sleeping with another person, but for some reason, I was not really feeling it tonight. I was aroused, yes, but my mind was not really in the moment. I was thinking of car crashes, screams, and blood flowing from deep gashes. I closed my eyes and wished for this to be over. Razena did not seem to notice my mental disposition and continued to move up and down upon me, her hands clawing at my chest that seemed like she was overacting a bit.

For whatever reason, this just was not working. I put my hands on Razena's hips just to give them something to hold onto, while I looked around the room and away from the asari's bouncing breasts. I was desperately trying to pay attention to anything else that I did not notice a few blue wispy tendrils start to emanate from Razena's skull. Before I knew what was happening, I saw too late her pupils completely spread across her sclera and a blistering white shockwave pulsed from her forehead, sucking me into a whirlpool of sensation beyond my comprehension.

 _I could feel her heartbeat, her drawing breath. It felt…familiar. Heavy. Our body processes began to sync up with the other, but it was nothing like I had ever felt before. Could you imagine being aware of blood surging through your arteries, each cord of muscle tightening and loosening from your brain signals? Each and every pore seemed to widen, gulping down the stimulus that it completely flooded my-_

" _Gah!_ " I groaned as I abruptly sat up, almost knocking heads with Razena. She climbed off me in alarm so that I could clutch my head in pain. A raging headache had decided to spring up out of the blue, almost paralytic to the point that I had to clench my fists into balls as a way to drive away the agony.

Razena was hovering over my shoulder cautiously and I tenderly turned her way, my face stained with sweat. "What the fuck was _that?_ " I gritted.

The asari bit her lip nervously, trying to look bashful even though she was completely nude. "I…I…I just tried to mind meld with you…t-that's it. I swear…I only wanted to make it feel good. I thought you would like it…"

"Yeah well, don't do it again," I growled as I rubbed my temples. That had been a very odd way to interrupt such an act.

"Did…did you still want to finish?" Razena asked, and it was a question that I was seriously considering saying 'no' to. But if I did, then I would just be left here alone, all wound up for no reason at all. For males, such a sensation is incredibly frustrating to the point that it causes severe bouts of rage. Might as well see this thing through to the end. I know, my life is an _absolute_ travesty.

Without uttering a word, I pushed Razena down so that I could be on top of her this time. Now _I_ could be in control. Before long we were going at it again, with the asari groaning out her pleasure while I was struggling to even reach my plateau. I pounded away at her desperately to edge closer but Razena mistook my fierce movements that for lust and moaned even louder. I then let out an exasperated groan at my situation, and she misunderstood that one as well with an answering cry of her own. Good Lord, can't she just shut up so that I can get myself off in relative silence?

At this point, I was not continuing for the pleasure or to give pleasure to my current partner. I don't think I've ever had such a mindset like that for sex before. For many people, this is just a release – a way to get rid of the frustration and angst that acclimates over time – and this was exactly what it was for me: an attitude discrepancy.

If Razena's goal was to achieve an orgasm from this night, then I had not been paying attention on that front. If she turned out to be unlucky tonight, oh well. I kept at it, though, just struggling my way through and continuing to regret this random hookup.

"Oh yes…please," Razena croaked as I got closer. "Inside me…baby…"

Oh no. No fucking way was I doing that. It was bad enough that I had forgone protection for this but I was definitely _not_ going to finish inside her. I didn't think that humans could impregnate other species, but I had not done enough research to know the specifics about the biology of all the aliens in this universe. Was there a Plan B for asari or was I just overreacting? Forget it! I'm not taking any fucking chances.

So, because I was not a hundred percent sure of the consequences and the fact that I had felt violated from Razena's mind rape just minutes earlier, I decided to act out in a spiteful and equally childish manner. I pulled out and finished on her stomach.

Immediately Razena's expression dropped from bliss to disgust as she started to notice what had happened. As she took in the sight of my milt on her belly, she gave me an _I-can't-believe-you've-done-this_ face, leaped off the bed and stormed into the bathroom to clean herself off. She shot me another dirty look as she slammed the door shut, leaving me alone at last. All I could do was chuckle and flop my hands to the side in acceptance. Finally, it was done. That crushing feeling had finally been lifted off my chest and my head was clear again. Small victories, all in all.

I did not bother with trying to put all my clothes back on, so I simply threw my robe around me and grabbed my ever-trusty pack of cigarettes and lighter, smacking both items on my palm as I wandered into the living area. As soon as I dug a smoke out and held it between my lips, Razena exited the bathroom, wearing the sheer article of clothing that she had previously arrived here in. Our gazes locked and she gave a scowl, as if she was expecting me to say something first. I stared at her expectantly, knowing that my semi-amused glance was enough to dare her to speak the first word.

The asari finally seemed to get the message. "Did you want me to stay at all?" she asked after clearing her throat.

The answer was obvious but I chose to put on a performance so that I looked like I was giving the matter some thought. It started with a rather overdone glance to the ceiling then down to my pack of cigarettes before finally resting on her again. "Eh," I gave a careless shrug and a wave of dismissal. "Not really."

All I could see was pure loathing in Razena's eyes for being so callous towards her, but I had not enjoyed our time together all that much. The sex had been mediocre and that was not taking into account her failed mind probe - rape - whatever. The sum total of tonight had been definitively in the red for me, so I did not give a rat's ass if she thought we had some chemistry together because the sole answer was that we did not. Not in the slightest.

Once Razena had left in a huff, I walked onto the balcony so that I would not fill my apartment up with smoke. I flicked the lighter and held the bursting flame to the tip of my cigarette until it glowed a warm red. I inhaled, craving the sweet tobacco on my tongue, and exhaled the ash after it had filled my lungs. Nothing like a post-sex smoke to drag out what little euphoric feelings had been attained.

The night was half-over by now but the traffic had subsided to a crawl from what I could gather. I just continued to chain smoke one after the other as I stared up at the nebula, dashing all thoughts of Razena out of my mind and still draping myself in wonder how I managed to get here, in space, in the first place. My ruminations would continue to lead me nowhere, just like before.

As I continued to daydream, my thoughts inevitably turned to the events of a few days ago, and of the quarian whose life I saved. I wondered where she was right now – either still at the hospital or somewhere else on this station, counting her lucky stars or her good fortune, whichever of the two. I genuinely hoped that she was all right. Just because I can be an asshole sometimes doesn't mean that I have no capacity for caring.

I still didn't feel like finding out her name, though.

* * *

 **A/N: Due to the upcoming holidays meshing with my work schedule, I'm most likely not going to even begin writing the next chapter until a week from now. Just a heads up for you all so I don't get lynched upon my return for being tardy.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6: Spur - Violence II

"… _And as you can see from the damage sustained during the attack, what would have been a freshly unearthed archeological site in the ground is now marred by blast marks from weapons fire. The exact number of assailants is currently unconfirmed, as is their identities, yet soldiers from the Alliance managed to repel the forces left behind at the last minute…"_

I nearly caused my water glass to overflow as I was filling it in the sink. I had just set my breakfast down in front of the vidscreen and had gone to procure my drink after I turned it on. What greeted me was the monotone voice of the reporter dispassionately recanting events on a faraway world, yet I knew that this incident would be the spark that would start the critical chain reaction.

Edging out back into the living room, I sighed as I saw the bulletin on the vidscreen summarizing the broadcast. It was a simple and direct phrase, not leaving anything up to the audience's imagination. "EDEN PRIME ATTACKED" was displayed at the bottom in bright red letters and I was struck at the scenes of devastation that streaked the landscape. The footage showed a few buildings shelled from motor fire, a few crates toppled over from a previous panic, and a hole from an archeological site that had been partially collapsed from the tremors and summarily ruined hours of work from its displacement.

" _Reports coming in say there have been as many as fifteen dead with an unknown number of wounded. The perpetrators are still at large but are not reported to be in the area. Local politicians are sending their hopes and prayers to the families of the wounded while other call for more action in Parliament regarding the protection of human colonies."_

"Shit," I said to myself before I took a tender sip from my glass. It was almost like watching a movie from the images this broadcast was portraying. Science fiction had become reality, in this case.

The occurrence of the Eden Prime attack was most definitely not a good thing for me. You know, I had actually just started to get complacent on the Citadel in the four months since I had first arrived here and I was not looking forward to anything disrupting my reasonably static life right about now. I alternated between staying in most days to play video games or watch movies, or go out to the clubs with Josh or a few other mutual friends. Sometimes we just bar hopped or went to more exotic places beyond my imagination. There was this one establishment known as Armax Arena that simulated a virtual battlefield and enemies where you and your friends could engage in a mock war, utilizing a pre-built stage as the foundation for a digitally formed battleground. All of the violence and weapons were holographic so there was no risk of getting hurt. Good thing too, as I was one of the worst of the bunch among my peers – I constantly scored the lowest because I kept getting hit by enemy fire (or swarmed by the occasional zombie) all the time.

My omni-tool started ringing and I glanced at it. Speak of the devil, it was Josh.

"Hey," I spoke into the digital receiver. "You figure out the plan for tonight?"

" _Absolutely_ ," Josh's pleased voice burst through. " _And it's an opportunity for a great time. You heard about that London Tapestries place on the extranet?_ "

Now I was interested. London Tapestries was a new bar that was bringing in a new method of alcohol digestion to the masses. Supposedly they had a kind of humidifier installed into the place that made it so that you could absorb alcohol just by breathing it in. They were supposed to give you special clothing to wear as well as goggles to prevent any alcohol from being absorbed through the skin and eyes as that was a surefire way to get alcohol poisoning in minutes. Still, it sounded like a very interesting experience to have.

"Don't tell me that it's opening tonight?!" I exclaimed as I stood up straighter in interest.

" _Sure is_ ," Josh laughed. " _The line's projected to start four hours from opening. Fortunately for you, I know a certain someone who is going to get in the queue at that time and let us cut in the line._ "

"Let me guess," I pretended to muse. "This the latest in your long line of girlfriends that will undoubtedly be replaced by next week?"

" _You wound me_ ," Josh said mockingly. " _I'll have you know that this girl is nothing at all like the last four that I've had. She's an absolute monster in bed, man. You'll like her, I know you will._ "

"Let's hope her intelligence is a bit brighter than the last. This current girl though, she wouldn't happen to be called Derek, would she?"

" _Asshole_ ," Josh said but laughed all the same. " _I'll see you later tonight, then_."

"Right, man. Take care."

Josh could be a little obnoxious from time to time, but he did know how to keep things interesting whenever I got bored with my life. I guess I was impressed that someone with such high energy could still function so remarkably when I tended to be a little more subdued. I never was much of an introvert but this whole culture shock did not exactly alleviate my agoraphobia, to put it mildly. Josh at least was instrumental in helping me adjust to the Citadel, albeit unwittingly, and allowing me to become a functioning member of society once again.

The Eden Prime attack threatened to undo all the hard work that I had accomplished so far. I had not spent my free time lazing about all the time, let me tell you that. Thanks to the power of drunken recall (courtesy of my unlimited supply of gin and tonics) I was able to recall to some extent the events of the three games over the months and I apparently had the foresight to sloppily jot them down so that I would not forget them again. The brain works in mysterious ways.

I was able to remember via my alcohol-assisted reminiscence that on Eden Prime was a piece of ancient alien technology that carried a warning about a genocidal machine race known as the Reapers. Two separate parties (Commander Shepard and some guy called Siren…no, Soren…Sirius? Damn!) would expose themselves to that warning and thus begin a race across the galaxy to either prevent Armageddon or to usher it in. Commander Shepard (gender still unbeknownst to me) would be the one who would use the information gleaned from the beacon to save the galaxy and thus establish themselves as the ultimate hero for all organic and synthetic life.

But that was all yet to come.

I had no idea of how much time the length of the first game spanned, but I knew that I had to take precautions if I was going to get out of the eventual battle that would bring itself to the Citadel's shores. I had the knowledge that a fighting force of hostile bipedal synthetic warriors would eventually invade the Citadel in a dramatic battle. If I wanted to have a chance at surviving that fight, I had to make a plan that could ensure my guaranteed safety – such as getting far away from this place as possible. Ah well, I could always do that later. Procrastinators of the world unite…tomorrow!

Of course, I still was dead set against revealing my knowledge of future events to anyone. It had been a while since I had performed any major screw ups regarding altering the timeline and I was not keen to start that up again. I just had to trust that the timeline would work itself out in the best interests of Shepard and company, and I could safely skirt away and watch from the sidelines. Small moves, Sam. That way, I can be content that I would not have altered anything in a horrific fashion and have created a paradox overwhelmingly not in my favor. What I wouldn't give for a time-traveling DeLorean right about now.

Just in case, I had the notion to do a little research beforehand so that I would be privy to some of the action lurking below the surface of an ordinary citizen's tunnel vision. I quickly polished the rest of my breakfast off and booted up my omni-tool again, switching from the call screen to my extranet browser. I knew that the Citadel possessed an extensive camera network and that pretty much all of them were public access, including the ones at military docking bays. I could not set my image finder to hone in on a specific outline from my memory, so I resorted to flipping through all the channels until I found what I wanted. It was a process that I thought was going to be quite monotonous but I actually achieved my goal in just over two minutes.

"Bingo," I said as I leaned in closer to the screen. "There you are."

It was hard not to know a sight like that, even when my experience with it was rather fleeting and spotty. The sleek hull of the _Normandy_ looked like every bit the ship that I was able to remember from the games. To be technical, on the screen it looked more like a model, but I was not about to declare that I was hallucinating. One of sci-fi's iconic ships was on this station right now! That's kind of like having the _Serenity_ or _Millennium Falcon_ close by depending on how nerdy you were to those respective franchises. At the very least, I honestly would like to catch a glimpse of the craft one of these days, but I think that my policy of non-commitment would be violated the closer I strayed to the ship and its crew. I guess I was going to have to settle for looking at the ship through a screen, then.

Then again, if the _Normandy_ was here then that meant Shepard was here as well. Holy Christ, that man was already going to be doing the bulk of his recruiting on this station most likely this day, before he would become inducted as the galaxy's first human Spectre. Things were moving faster than I thought. I'd better lie low today or the next day, just to make sure that I won't-

Oh, wait a minute. Something's wrong. I stomped my foot on the ground in frustration after I had dug in my pocket and found nothing. I searched high and low around my apartment and came up empty with my desired item in question. Damn it all! I was out of cigarettes. On top of that, I had run out of my coffee supply yesterday as well. No wonder I was feeling so tired today. So, I currently had no nicotine and no caffeine to boot. That was not a combination that I would like to experience, but for all I know Shepard is out there pretty much deputizing anyone who helps him out in some small manner. I'm not one to get roped up in armed combat but I _needed_ cigs at the very least lest my cravings become too debilitating.

Muttering profanities, I stormed into my room and came out shoving on a jacket. All right, Sam. You're just going out to get your coffee and cigarettes. No funny business. No trips to the bars or the Council Chambers, or anywhere on the Presidium for that matter! You can certainly walk to the convenience store and back without causing any trouble, right?

Even my brain was hesitant in answering that question, my pessimism having risen to high levels. After all, I had broken that rule before. Who's to say I can't break it again?

Hey, Sam's subconscious? Sometimes you just got to learn to shut the fuck up!

* * *

It was only a short jaunty to the store-restaurant combo and I was at the appropriate block in no time. That was good as it meant less chances for me to get swept up into an adventure I had no intention of traveling. However, at the entrance of the place, some radical human had chosen that particular spot as the nexus for where he would base all of his ravings uttered at the passing populace. This man was young, perhaps a few years younger than me, looked to be pretty charged, and wore a shirt that said _Terra Firma_ in bright neon letters on it. I had no idea if that was a saying somewhere or if that was an organization of some kind. I knew enough Latin to know that Terra Firma meant "from Earth" but I did not get the appropriate context for the situation right away. I did get a chance to hear what the man was saying before I headed inside, though.

"Earth first and forever!" the man crowed. "Do not forget the horrors that occurred at Shanxi! The turians massacred our people during the First Contact War so why should we be in bed with them? Humanity's politics are theirs alone to manage, not the Council's! We should have a say in the matter! You there, do-,"

I hurriedly entered the establishment, desperate to get away from the man's rantings. I do so hate obnoxious protestors. The place itself reminded me of a diner; white tile floors, counter in front of the kitchen with booths at the windows, the seats made out of vinyl. If I had not already eaten I would have sat down and ordered some good old breakfast food. After all, it's hard to screw up eggs and toast.

However, when I took my place in line at the convenience section I was embarrassed to see that most of the alien patrons looked uncomfortable as they stared out the window, watching the young man continue to slander their races. As I got in line, I became more and more ashamed as I took careful glances at the people standing in line or sitting at tables around me. I felt like more of an outsider than ever; these people in here were obviously affected by what this man was saying, yet I was tuning it out like nothing because I was a human and therefore it did not affect me. What was the logic in free speech if that speech was hurting people? Shanxi and the First Contact War were just terms to me, they meant nothing. But to everyone else, it seemed like the words coming out of that man's mouth were doing genuine harm. Yet no one had confronted the man, from what I saw. Everyone was content to try their best at ignoring him while picking silently at their meals.

Eventually reaching the cash register, I paid for a bag of coffee beans and a few packs of cigarettes. There was nothing else I needed but I did throw in a packet of gum just for the hell of it.

"You know, those things will kill you," the turian cashier said as he set the cigarettes down on the counter in front of me.

"Don't patronize me, pal," I snorted as I shoved the packs into my jacket pocket.

Exiting, I immediately had a smoke out and lit, Citadel regulations be damned. Actually, I was pretty certain that I could smoke on this level, but I was too lazy to find that out for myself. If I got a citation for my small contribution to the pollution level, then I probably would deserve it. C'est la vie.

"Earth first!" the man was still yelling. "Terra Firma! Remember Shanxi and 314! Remember what the turian bastards did to us! The asari whores let the violence happened and stopped us only when they realized our true power!"

Oy vey. Conspiracy theorists suck ass in every galaxy. I edged away from the still bullshit-spewing bigot, wanting to get out of earshot before he got to be a little too annoying on my psyche.

"You there!" the man shouted. I instinctively looked over at the outburst and the two of us locked eyes. Crap, too late. The man was pointing directly at me, like he was gesturing me over to make a point. However, I stood my ground and gave a drag of my cigarette. I was not going to move over to a man like that. No way, no how.

Do not engage, Sam. For the love of god, do not engage.

Apparently my stiff demeanor was fine with the man because he quickly walked over to me despite my sour gaze. I eyed him up and down. He was wearing all black clothing with a long jacket that I guess could be considered a trench coat, yet the green neon lettering on the man's shirt clashed rather horribly with the rest of his attire. The man had a scraggly beard, his hair was short and blond, and he reeked of bad cologne. His overall appearance would be considered somewhat acceptable to most except it was the fact that his eyes were the most disturbing feature. They were a bright blue and they bugged out like they were one jolt from popping out from their sockets. Eyes of someone completely off their rocker or perhaps had one too many Adderall tablets swimming in their system.

"What?" I snorted as I attempted to shuffle away, but the man blocked my path as he surged in my direction.

"Morning, friend!" the man said loudly in my face to the point that I winced. He stuck his hand out for a firm shake. "Name's Dennis. Care to listen for a minute or two about the Terra Firma party?"

The phrase "a minute or two" in this case was undoubtedly referring to ten. I'm well aware of these political games and tactics. "I believe it's the afternoon, actually," I corrected while Dennis' hand remained alone before it sheepishly dropped back down to his side.

"So it is!" Dennis replied cheerfully, his exuberant attitude already starting to grate on me. "But I've been out here for four hours and hardly anyone has expressed interest for my party's views. Can you help me by listening, man?"

This was the problem here. I had stupidly decided to engage with this man instead of trying to walk away. Why, oh why did I ignore my subconscious again? Now that we had shared words, this guy was going to be even tougher to shake off. Even more aggravating was the fact that I did not like this man all that much, just at first glance. As they say, first impressions are everything.

"What, are you looking for donations?" I raised an eyebrow. I blew out a puff of smoke, hoping that the carcinogens would replace the smell of the man's repugnant cologne. "I didn't just fall off the back of the hammer truck to know that this party you're touting is obviously a tad unpopular, based on the heated comments you were making back there. It seemed to be upsetting quite a lot of people."

"You mean the truth?" Dennis asked genuinely. "If what I was saying was _not_ upsetting people, then I would not be doing my job correctly! Oh my good sir, such a functioning member of society like you should be aware of the war going on at the moment…the war that we will most certainly lose unless we take preemptive action!"

"As far as I know, there _is_ no war going on." That is, the real war had not started quite _yet_ , but I was not going to say a word. "Perhaps the war of which you speak of is referring to the clashing of your wardrobe, in which case I would recommend the suit shop on the third arm of this station. They tend to have items a bit less…slipshod."

Dennis did not seem to take offence and waved his hand around dramatically. "You jest, but what I am referring to is the war between us and the aliens. Specifically, the movement by the Council to oust humans from the- Hey! Where are you going?"

I had made an effort to leave back towards my apartment, rolling my eyes as I did so, but Dennis was inescapable and was back at my side in seconds, step for step.

"Get the fuck away from me," I growled.

"Now hold on a second!" Dennis said. "Have you ever felt, throughout your entire life, that you've been put down for no reason? As in, have you ever been persecuted to some extent?"

"You seem to be missing your E-meter," I answered glibly, momentarily ignoring the question. "I thought audits like these never take place without them. Sorry to disappoint you and Xenu, but I think that I'm just going have to take the label of a suppressive person if that gets you to go away for one minute."

Dennis' face was blank. "I…apologize, sir…but I have no idea of what you are talking about."

"Oh, so you _aren't_ a Scientologist. Then what the hell are you?"

"I happen to be a Catholic. I'm a member of the Terra Firma party and I am currently lobbying on the behalf of Charles Saracino for one of the spacer seats on the Alliance parliament. I don't understand exactly why you'd be comparing me to a Scientologist, though. That misguided band of brainwashed fools was disbanded in the mid twenty-first century and has no bearing right now."

Thank god for that.

"A lobbyist, eh?" I chortled. "So this is some kind of grassroots campaign to win over the hearts and minds of humans? Specifically by pandering to the most xenophobic of humans through your bigoted and hate-filled speech?" Now where had I heard that before?

"Now wait just a minute," Dennis' face was serious as he stopped right in front of me, holding out a hand and physically halting my progress. "Everyone knows that humanity has lost its way ever since we've made contact with the…others. Races like the turians are violent and vicious warmongers, and humanity does not need to get itself involved with the issues of foreigners. Domestic policy has hit an all-time low and its citizens are suffering as a result. Humans should take care of their own first before lending valuable resources or aid, especially militarily, to anyone else."

I sourly looked down at the hand that was pressed flat upon my chest. Slowly and deliberately, I reached down and pried it away. "First off," I hissed. "Don't you ever fucking touch me again. Second, your views or your party's views are incredibly naïve, not to mention downright offensive. Look at how much humanity has achieved from partnering with the other races – by choosing to ally with them! Technology, habitats, discovery, everything that's occurred since we've decided to work together has been for the betterment of our species. It's a big galaxy out there and no one can claim all of it. _Cooperating_ , in this case, furthers our mutual goals."

"Yet humanity does not hold a seat on the Council. We're practically looked down upon by every other species on that foolhardy committee!"

"But the volus, elcor, hanar, and many other races have no seats," I pointed out. "We've only just had first contact with aliens for a few decades now – we're the newest addition to the galaxy's combined races. Other races have been lobbying for seats for sometimes centuries. We should be grateful that we've gotten this far at all."

Of course, at the end of the year humanity would undoubtedly wind up earning a seat on the Council despite our relative youth. Yet such a declaration right now would be baseless and would sound just as crazy as Dennis' theories. I could not fight insanity with insanity right now.

"You know," I continued, "considering that our advancement is guaranteed if we thought of the aliens as our _allies_ , we will continue to advance far beyond our wildest dreams. That _includes_ the turians, which you seem to be very trigger-happy in disparaging."

Dennis did not seem to be convinced. "But what about Shanxi? Relay 314? The turians fired upon us first just for being curious. I know people that had family die over there, man. You're telling me that they should just lie down and accept that their sons and daughters fought and died for nothing? That in the end, all we were able to achieve was just a _truce_?"

I laughed around the cigarette in my mouth. "Oh, blow me. You may claim to know people that died through mutual friends but I'll be willing to be that you don't know anyone directly who has perished as a result of direct conflict between the governments of different races. Violence in this galaxy happens all the time. It wasn't a novel concept when we burst onto the scene then and it sure as shit is not one now. If you forget, countries fought all the time back on Earth and they eventually allied with each other over time. War happens, but people find ways to move on."

"Yes, but-,"

"-But incidents like Relay 314 and Shanxi are mere blips compared to humanity's history of armed conflict. What was it, only five or six hundred humans lost in total? What about the World Wars? Vietnam? More humans were lost to those conflicts – way, way, more – and you're here trying to promote that humanity is not mature enough to be open for a potential partnership? The turians, if you recall, were reprimanded and forced to pay reparations. The Council was not interested in protecting a member race at that time, which should be an indication that they are open for us to become a larger voice in the galactic sense. Fuck, all you're doing is just hampering that progress through your rambling about a secession for humanity. You're insulting _everyone_ , including the humans you claim to represent."

As expected, Dennis did not seem to be heavily affected by what I just said. "Wait, wait, wait," he tried to assure me. "Wait just a minute. Those events you just tried to use as a comparison have a fatal flaw. They were conflicts that humans inflicted upon each other. When the turians first threatened us, we rose up and united to repel our common enemy! We were stronger together than the other aliens had initially thought and that made them _afraid_ of us. They don't want us to be on the Council because they think we will become too powerful, but we're powerful enough already. Now that humans are more united than ever, we have the ability to stand alone and keep our politics to ourselves, while leaving the rest of the galaxy to mind its own business. That will ensure stability for us, fiscally and militarily."

"Like I said," I grumbled. "Incredibly naïve. Now you're insinuating that we can win in an actual conflict against the combined might of the Council. Those are treasonous words that I don't think many people here will take kindly to. Despite our advances in technology, I don't think we will be able to compete with a race like the asari who has had centuries to perfect their creations, or the sheer numbers of the full turian fleets, and that's not discounting the crafty natures of the salarians. It isn't worth getting on anyone's bad side. Not now. This is a critical moment that all humans should realize and that-,"

"A critical moment?" Dennis interrupted. "You sound like you've already accepted the fact that humanity is not pursuing its independence any time soon. Worse than that, it sounds like you've _embraced_ the notion that we should consider the aliens to be our equal."

Oh, he had no idea what I believed.

"Evolve or die," I replied. "You can continue to believe that our future lies with humans acting alone but I'll continue to believe in the opposite."

"And nothing I will say can convince you?"

I gave a mental scoff. _I already know the events that are about to occur in the next couple of years,_ I thought to myself. _You're not the one sucked into an alternate reality here, that privilege currently belonged to me._

"Not in the slightest," I muttered as I tried to shoulder my way past the man again. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Wait!" Dennis cried, now seriously starting to piss me off with his vehemence. "You actually support allying with the aliens?"

"Why not? It's the natural flow of things and I'm not one to swim upstream."

"You mean, you'd approve of things going even further than that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know…" Dennis looked in all directions before he leaned in close and whispered, "Sex."

I bit down on my cigarette as my face turned incredulous. "I'm sorry, _what?_ " I asked in an exasperated voice.

"Banging? Fucking? Putting on your business socks? Taking them to Poundtown? Bending her over a barrel and showing her the fifty states?"

"All right, all right, enough!" I screwed up my face. "I know what sex is, jackass! I don't need a human thesaurus rattling off every damn term in the book to me!"

"But you _would_ support it, yes?"

The man's ignorance was astounding, especially considering the day and age. Based on my experiences perusing various bars and clubs, I'd say that a fair number of humans have embraced the idea of taking partners from other species. Haven't people learned that casual racism has only contributed to the degradation of society as a whole? I thought we would have had that figured out with an extra hundred and fifty years.

"If two people love each other and they happen to be differing species," I answered, choosing my words carefully, "it is not my place to be able to deny them happiness. I don't vilify people who make that choice and I'm frankly astonished that you hold such beliefs."

Dennis' jaw dropped, like I had committed some form of blasphemy. Shame on me for acting like a decent fucking person, apparently.

"So…you would seriously consider sleeping with…an asari?" he asked timidly, like he was afraid of knowing the answer.

"Sorry to tell you that I've already tried that. Twice, as a matter of fact." I was enjoying watching Dennis' face turn multiple shades of red. My actions were clashing so hard with his beliefs that I bet he was struggling to consider if I was some form of the Antichrist. I blew a steady stream of smoke out from my mouth casually, causing Dennis to cough as his eyes stung from the vapors.

"But…" he spluttered, "…they're aliens! It's just not right!"

"Quit your whining. I'm sure I'm not the first person to sleep with another outside of my own species."

"And you're not disgusted with yourself?"

"I'm _always_ disgusted with myself," I shrugged. "Having sex with aliens, however, is not where my consternation is focused."

"Then you'd be open to doing it w-with others?" Dennis asked, shocked.

"It would have to depend on the circumstances," I considered, "but I wouldn't rule anything out at the moment."

"You'd bang a turian?"

"Let's just say that I wouldn't say no to the idea."

"A batarian?"

"If I felt some kind of attachment to them, sure."

"Salarians?"

"Apparently they only have sex for breeding purposes so I don't exactly think that I'll get such a chance. But if the opportunity would ever present itself, I would not be totally opposed."

"You're a sick freak," Dennis was disgusted. "You would even go to bed with…a quarian?"

I took a quick drag. "I think it would be rather difficult, having to contend with those suits and their weak immune systems, but anything's possible, I suppose." I blew smoke out of my nostrils. "Why are you so interested in my kinks anyway? I'm definitely not in your target demographic for your party's ideals so why bother trying your luck with me unless there's more underneath the exterior? This amount of frustration and your fascination with the opposite gender is…quite telling. Could it be, perhaps…that you just want to get laid?"

"What?" Dennis exclaimed. "N-No! That's not it at all!"

"Look, man, you've been down the list denoting how sexually depraved I am while you're standing out in public shouting for people to keep it in their pants unless they're with their own kind. You said it yourself that you've had zero luck at campaigning thus far, which represents that the majority of the human population does not share your view of the galaxy. Therefore, I'm guessing that this is a last-ditch effort to gain some semblance of attention that has otherwise never been afforded to you before."

"This has gone far enough. I'm sorry for wasting your time-,"

"Now hang on," I now stepped in front of Dennis' way, determined to say _my_ part. "The way you treat all of these aliens with disdain, having apparently suffered no direct losses of your own per your anecdotes, makes me think that your flawed viewpoints were obtained in another manner. I'm thinking…that you had a woman once – an alien – and they probably broke your heart. That's why you're dedicated to this fruitless campaign in order to get back at whoever spurned you in the past."

Dennis froze and that look told me everything I needed to know about him. He was not very good at masking his true emotions, allowing me to read him like a book.

"That…" he breathed, "…that is completely and utterly ridiculous, sir. I would n-never-,"

"Cut the horseshit," I scowled. "And stop treading on others because you think their lives are better than yours. If you even knew what I had to go through, you wouldn't have dared accosted me in the first place. I've lost more than you ever have so don't fucking treat me like I'm ignorant to the cruel galaxy out there. So you couldn't get your rocks off. Big fucking whoop. I've had women treat me cruelly in the past but you don't see me trash talking them, do you?"

"Stop talking, sir!" Dennis begged, his face white and fearful.

"It's people like you that makes me disgusted with my own race sometimes. Who is going to give a flying fuck if someone didn't blow you that one night? _'Oh poor me, I've got blue balls and there's nothing I can do about it!'_ Screw that, this isn't an ignorance problem. This is a damn _asshole_ probl-,"

" _Fuck you!_ " Dennis screamed as he suddenly swung his fist. I was totally unprepared for the blow and was shocked as my head was batted to the side with a painful smack. My cigarette flew out of my mouth and onto the pavement. I could taste blood in my mouth and I felt my jaw tenderly.

I had a moment to laugh to myself. I had made Dennis lose control. Usually at this point in an argument the person who resorts to fisticuffs first is the one who throws their side of the conversation. It was just fortunate that Dennis happened to be a lousy fighter as his punch, although painful, was not as strong of a blow like I was expecting. I bet all that was going to remain of the blow was just a bruise. My part in this aggravating debate was now over; I could leave whenever I wanted. But, there was the fact that Dennis had crossed a certain line with me. He had knocked my cigarette out of my mouth and for that, he needed to be punished.

Dennis seemed to sense the maniacal monster creeping out of the cracks within me and immediately threw up his hands in surrender. "Sorry!" he quickly uttered. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

Sorry was not going to cut it. Not this time. I was a much bigger person than Dennis and I practically towered over him as I stepped to bring him into my arm's reach. My answering punch to his face sent Dennis hurtling down to the ground, very much conscious with blood streaming from his jaw. He must have bit his tongue when I had hit him.

It had been a long time since I had actually traded punches in a fight (I had never gotten the chance to do so from that ruckus in the alley months back) and I had completely forgotten the proper technique for punching someone that I knew I had done it wrong the instant my fist had made contact. My fingers had been positioned at an awkward angle and two of them broke in an instant when they impacted on Dennis' skull. I shouted in pain but kept my maimed fist raised as I stood over Dennis, ready to throw down some more if it should come to such a stage.

"You finished?" I panted while my fingers throbbed. "Had enough?"

"Yeah, yeah, man," Dennis fumbled as one hand covered his head to ward off any potential blows. "Okay, easy, easy. Don't…you don't have to…anymore."

"Right, I'd better not," I growled, already starting to move away. "Why don't you think the next time you open your mouth, huh?"

I then heard a noise start to build as I backed away from the downed and humbled Dennis, almost like the slow pattering of rain as a thunderstorm approached, but I quickly realized that it was clapping. I looked around in shock and noticed that a few aliens and even humans that had been watching and listening to the entire exchange were applauding me for silencing the bigot. I could see relief on many of the faces, especially the aliens, and I lowered my head a bit, embarrassed at all the attention. Actually, I did not like that I was being rewarded for giving into my desires and slugging Dennis, but seeing the looks of approval in my direction warmed me somewhat and I gave timid nods to the people that I locked gazes with. Turns out this was the first impulsive decision I've made in a long time that actually amounted to something good.

I still needed to do something about my broken fingers, though. Stop the presses, everyone. Sam McLeod still can't fight for shit.

A few young turians had come to pat me on the back, but I disengaged from them awkwardly after trying my best to seem appreciative. I headed back into the convenience store and bought a pack of popsicle sticks and some medical tape. Now, what I should have done in this situation was go to a clinic to get my fingers looked at but I was fed up with admitting myself into a medical facility twice in the past few months. Not to discount fellow medical professionals, but I knew I could solve this problem by myself without taking a huge bite out of my co-pay.

I hustled up a nearby flight of stairs and sat down on a bench that faced out towards a wide window, giving me an unobstructed view of the cosmos. Now that's a sight that no computer screensaver could ever compare to. I could sit in this spot for hours just staring at the twinkling stars and the glowing nebula wisps. People on the Citadel might take such a sight for granted, but it never failed to enthrall me every time I got a chance to ponder to myself.

There certainly were worse places that I could have turned out to live in. Location, location, location, eh?

Taking out two popsicle sticks from the plastic bag, I snapped a quarter off of their lengths and lined the shortened sticks up with my broken index and middle fingers, which were now starting to turn an ugly shade of purple. I then tore off a long strip of the medical tape and tightly wrapped it around my fingers with the popsicle sticks acting as splints. The end result certainly did not look pretty but it would keep my fingers from bending and prolonging the healing process. I had some medi-gel of my own back at my apartment so I would do well to apply it when I got back. All in all, I figured that my fingers should be back to normal within the week. Done and done.

I was planning on getting back to my apartment now that I had my affairs all in order. Either that, or I could afford to spend a few more minutes stargazing. Both options seemed particularly likely that I would not be exposed to any more stressors for the day, which would be good for my overall mental health. Having to punch one person was enough.

Before I could do that, though, a voice interrupted me from my reverie. "Excuse me, sir?"

I glanced over at the side and quickly sat bolt-upright as I saw a faceless visor staring right at me. A quarian. My first thought was, _how the hell did she find me?!_ However, I quickly relaxed as I realized that this quarian was not the same one that I had saved in the alley. Whereas the first one's suit had been black with red accents, this one's had purple accented fabric wrapped around a black bodysuit. Also the voice was not the same as I remembered, which meant that I was safe for the time being. Still, I could not help but feel that this quarian looked somewhat familiar, but I just attributed that to the similarity of the enviro-suits. Yes, I know that sounds racist. Write up a complaint, why don't you?

Heart pounding in relief, I smoothed my shirt over to give myself a calmer appearance. "Yes, miss?" I asked in a friendly tone, remembering my manners.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," the quarian said genuinely, "but do you know where Chora's Den is? I was told to meet someone near the side entrance there five minutes ago but I just can't find it."

"Chora's Den?" I repeated. "You're actually not too far. It's just one level up and you hang a right at the intersection. You should be able to locate the correct entrance from there." I brought out the map on my omni-tool to show her where she was headed.

"Okay," the quarian nodded before she hurriedly began to depart. "Thank you, sir!"

"No…problem," I ended up muttering to myself as I watched the quarian bustle up the nearest stairwell. I wondered if there was a deeper connotation for such an encounter but such a thought seemed a little too paranoid, even for me. I ended up just shelving that entire conversation, short as it may be, in my mental rubbish bin. Strangers ask for directions all the time so why should this instance be such a big deal for me?

In any case, I believed that it was about time that I headed back. I had quite the eventful afternoon today and I did not want to push my luck any further by tempting fate from stepping outside my apartment for too long. I could dress myself in comfortable clothes, order a pizza, crack open a beer, and watch reruns of football matches before I-

Oh. Oh fuck me. I cannot believe it did not just occur to me until now. How dense _are_ you, Sam?! What is it going to take to penetrate that thick skull of yours?!

Now I know why that quarian, the one who asked me for directions, looked so familiar to me. The name had just come to me at this very moment. That was Tali'Zorah, one of the most important members of Shepard's crew, only she was not part of Shepard's crew just yet. She still had to meet up with the human commander before she would officially become part of the narrative. And I just gave her directions to where thugs were waiting to ambush her.

" _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!"_ I savagely breathed to myself over and over again as I sprung off the bench and sprinted towards the stairwell that Tali had just gone up five minutes ago. I took the stairs three at a time, almost barreling over a few bystanders as I did so.

I wheeled around the corner at the exact same time I heard a series of gunshots echo from a nearby alley. Everyone on the boulevard froze at the noise and a pit appeared in my stomach. What if, because of my existence, I had given Tali directions to her location earlier than anticipated? What if that had ensured that the thugs stationed there would have gotten to her before Shepard did?

People were now beginning to crowd around the alley entrance anxiously. "God, please no." I whispered, mentally trying to atone for all the wrong I've ever done in my life. I pushed through the crowd, trying to see what had happened in the corridor. My pulse was racing and my eyes were wide open.

There was some resistance in the crowd and I could feel it pushing against me for some reason. It seemed like the throng was parting to let some people through. What happened next made me elated beyond words. An imposing figure decked in shiny black armor hurried through the gap, his shaven head glistening underneath the holographic lighting. With his chiseled expression and determined gaze, Commander Shepard looked even more heroic in the flesh (apparently he _was_ a male in this universe.) Trailing closely behind in his firm grip was the more diminutive form of Tali'Zorah, alive and unharmed. Both paid me no mind and the crowd closed up after another male human and a scarred krogan had followed the commander and quarian through.

I breathed out in relief. Everyone important was still alive, so that was good. I guess I dodged a bullet there.

Edging through the mass of people, I eventually got out in front to see what the hubbub had been about. A pair of medics were already on the scene in the alley, having entered from the opposite side. Three bodies lay on the ground, two of them salarians, the third a turian. The ground was streaked with blood and bullet holes pockmarked a few of the walls beyond. Evidence enough that one should not mess with Shepard and his crew. I was close enough to the bodies to make out that on one of the turian's hands, he only possessed a thumb and two notably shortened fingers. A wound like that would most likely have been caused by…a knife slash.

I felt the hilt of my knife that I kept in my waistband for support while I watched the medics cover the dead turian with a blanket. My glee was rapidly turning into concern the more I considered this. If what I thought was true and that turian that was lying stone dead on the floor over there was the same one I had injured all those months ago during that attack on the first quarian, then did my interference alter the course of events in some way? If I hadn't stabbed and maimed the turian, would he have been in better shape to take Shepard and his crew?

Could it be, that my actions potentially saved the lives of both Tali _and_ Shepard? It seemed too good to be true, but that also gave way to a new problem. Was every single solitary action that I performed here going to have repercussions upon the events of the plot of the games? What did I have to do to make sure that I stayed firmly outside of that sequence aside from exiling myself to some remote town in Wyoming? What was my purpose here? Why was I even here in the first place?! _Why_ , goddamn it, _why?!_

Despite the maelstrom of tormented thoughts, I was able to head back to my apartment in relative silence. Maybe if I had been privy to the exact details of the fight between Shepard and the goons, I could have been assured that my actions, while important, were not overly crucial to the survival of the protagonists. Alas, my presence had been absent from that encounter, so I had no godly way of knowing anything.

I never seemed to know anything important these days anyway.

* * *

 **A/N: All of you consistently amaze me with your support of this story sometimes. The last submission garnered just about 1,000 extra views in an entire week. For some authors, that's probably nothing, but I have not gotten this sort of support ever, so thank you all very much! Already I believe that this is my most favorited and followed story thus far, so I'm curious to see if it will be the most reviewed and most viewed one out of all the stuff I've written. I also know it sounds repetitive but reviews honestly make my day every time I receive one (...except trolling ones, obviously) and I only get more and more enthusiastic about writing this story whenever someone tells me they enjoy it. I even welcome constructive criticisms as that means that you care enough for the story by pointing out things that I could do to make it better.**

 **We're going to learn a little bit more of Sam's backstory in the next chapter which should reveal a few more facets about his character. Even though this is in first person, Sam is still keeping secrets from the audience. As to what they may be, you'll have to wait and find out!**

 **All right, you scalawags, no more spoilers from me. Now then, back to writing that massive death scene...**


	7. Chapter 7: Overkill

You know what? Fuck this galaxy! Fuck Mass Effect! Fuck the Citadel and everyone on it! I've had enough, I tell you! I just cannot take any more of this crap! Mass Effect can go and die in a hole for all I care, because I've officially lost my fucking mind! That's right, Elvis has left the fucking building!

As it can probably be gleaned from my ranting, I'm rather upset at my current situation, and that's putting things mildly. What I can analyze is that all of the stress from the past few months had finally built up enough pressure that it had burst like a balloon, causing me to exhibit this fierce and sudden shift in temperament. Actually, I'm surprised that such a mental break had not occurred sooner, but it was apparent that now seemed like the appropriate time for my common sense to take a walk out the door for a short period of time, leaving me in the most vulnerable state of mind since my arrival. The connotations for this were…not good, to say the least.

This was the start of my lapse.

For context, I'm sure that many people have had an experience when they were so distraught, either from sadness or rage, that their emotions took over their actions for a short period of time. Getting transported to a completely different universe certainly qualifies as an appropriate catalyst. What I'm inferring is that my overall discomfort in being plopped right in the center of the Citadel finally overloaded my core thinking, resulting in an incredibly unhinged Sam. Of course, acting erratically out of blind instinct and not thinking things through does not tend to result in the best outcome possible. Rather, such craziness tends to wind up with the person in question leaving a trail of destruction in their wake (both literally and metaphorically speaking.)

This was one of those moments for me. It did not happen overnight, but I know that the underlying cause of my mental troubles had been started from when I had mistakenly involved myself yet again and most likely saved Shepard and Tali from harm in a skirmish – the straw the broke the camel's back, so to speak. That was just more proof being stacked against me that showed how many times that I was breaking my one rule: do not interfere. First the quarian in the alley and now this. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I could not help getting myself involved with things around here. It's like I was destined to play a part in the narrative (or screw it up majorly) when I had no desire to do so in the first place. I have been trying to let things play out as they should, yet all I was doing was messing things up despite my good intentions. Granted, I had not yet made any major slip-ups, but what if I did one day? What if I did change things so drastically through my own ineptitude? This disparity between what I considered to be my goal versus what my actions had created had resulted in the beginnings of my mental imbalance. One day after I had woken from my sleep, I had come to a final conclusion in my frail mindset that, in hindsight, seemed like a good idea at the time.

I had basically declared, _Fuck it. I'm going to kill myself._

I remember that I had tried to quash the idea of suicide out of my head for the few months that I was here, but now the concept was back in full force. I mean, in my head it seemed like I was being a hindrance to whatever the plot of the games had in mind. I was an unknown factor and my repeated presence threatened to undo everything related to the salvation of the galaxy. In no way did I want to be the cause of trillions of deaths, so I figured that trading one life for those was worth the cost. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, as Spock would say. In this case, the life of the few happened to be referring to me. This was just my own way of ensuring that I would definitely not screw things up further; if my presence in this universe was only going to cause chaos, then it would be wise to removing the offending presence from the equation, no?

See? Even when I spell it out it sounds reasonable. That's how much my mind was warped at the time, because no sane person would dare entertain the idea of offing themselves. In terms of my sanity, this was perhaps the darkest phase of my life up to this point. It was a flawed justification, yes, but logic was not going to win out this time.

It would take a miracle for me to come to my senses.

* * *

The day of my mental break with reality started out as normal as ever. I showered, ate, and got myself dressed before I headed out the door and hailed a skycar. Outwardly I appeared fine but internally, I was a complete and utter mess. A CT scan would show my brain in complete chaos, I bet. After a short jaunty in the air (or space, technically) I was then deposited at one of the Citadel's many civilian docks, which happened to be the place where I harbored my own transport, purchased out of pocket.

Being someone whose material tastes tend to run a little more modestly than what would be considered average for a millionaire, I had decided some time ago that I would have to allow myself to splurge on a big item of some sort. The big item that was on my mind was a space ship. It's pretty much everyone young male's childhood dream to own their own spacefaring vessel and this time I actually had the opportunity to purchase one of my own. Who woulda thunk? The only problem that stood in my way was the entire saga outlining the entire process for purchasing said ship.

To be honest, it was not even that big of a problem. Apparently in this universe, all one has to do in order to legally obtain a ship is to pass a test, sort of like a driver's license test, to determine if the user could properly fly a ship and fill out a bunch of paperwork that makes the college admissions process look like a pamphlet. It was surprising to me that the questions on the test were based more on common sense situations, like giving the right of way to someone or designating which zones were unsafe to fly, rather than technically-based queries. I mean, sure, I had to go over the controls of a test ship to make sure that I knew how to operate them but the software is so intuitive these days that piloting one is a hell of a lot easier than one would normally expect. It's not like you're flying an F-35 jet, but more like a very fancy sports car with a few extra bells and whistles. I had passed the test with flying colors and had the license added to my registry.

I had gone over to a dealership right after I had passed my test and spent the rest of the day browsing and haggling before I departed with, not one, but _two_ new ships in my name…as well as a significantly lighter wallet, about fifty million credits worth.

The ship that I took out for a spin today was my lighter, more agile ship. My other ship, the size of a small yacht, was parked in dry dock. The design of the sporty craft was sleek, with two elongated wings and a curved cockpit. It only held two in its cramped quarters as it was mainly designed for racing, considering the pedigree of its manufacturer. I won't get into specifics on how I managed to fly the damn thing in a manner that I would call adequate, but let me tell you, the first time I sat into the ship and had the stars whirling around me, I damn near soiled myself from excitement.

As it was, I managed to get the nimble little ship through the mass relay system and exited in the blink of an eye into a completely different solar system. Space magic, man. The fact that we now had the technology to transport ourselves instantly from one corner of the galaxy to the other is a concept that I still consider to be insane. Now that I was in this new location, the milky light of the Serpent Nebula was replaced with the cold blackness of space, illuminated only from the stars surrounding me. The autopilot took me past the bulk of the celestial objects that took up this solar system and I stared at them in awe as I passed through. I had every right to be amazed as these were objects that I had only seen in textbooks before. No other human from my time had ever gotten close to these planets before. Pluto, Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars. I found myself rattling off the names of the planets until I began approaching the one that I was intending to land upon.

The third rock from the sun. The pale blue dot. Earth.

Despite what conceptions you have, most landing operations are not pilot-performed. Rather, the software on board the ship connects to the control tower of the destination you're trying to get to and they go through all of the proper handshake protocols. Once a secure connection is established, the control tower will assign a queue number for the ship's autopilot to activate, enabling it to land at the spaceport without ever having a rogue pilot potentially crash land in the hills nearby. That meant that, if I wanted to, I could crack open a beer, play a little ditty on a piano, or take a power nap while my ship essentially landed itself.

And yet there were people back in 2015 that had no clue on how to use turn signals. Now we had to trust people here with flying their own ships. The insurance companies had to be making a killing.

Once on the ground of Earth, I spent a good amount of time on the tarmac as I took everything in. It had been a while since I had experienced actual weather since the Citadel only had one climate. This was the first planet I had been on in that time, as crazy as it might sound. The sun warmed my face, high in the sky for it being the midafternoon, and the wind tugged at my clothes, the breeze refreshing. I took in a deep breath of the salty air and could hear the roar of the waves less than a mile away. Opening my eyes, I could see the lush green mountains line the horizon to the east, while to the west, a clear blue expanse rimmed as far as the eye could see. The Pacific Ocean.

Great weather for a last day.

This was Carmel, California. It was a relatively small ocean community the last time I had set eyes on it. My sister and I had been raised here for most of our lives – which primarily brought up fond thoughts. Carmel had good schools, a terrific atmosphere for sporting events, and the close-knit mindset of all of its members fostered an environment where everyone was super-friendly. My sister and I would always go to the beach and play with our friends seemingly every day during summer. We loved the water when it was crystal clear. However, I cannot recall for the life of me the last time I set foot into the sea.

It was definitely a trip down memory lane, coming here. I preferred to walk along the coast road instead of taking a cab at the spaceport and I was glad that I did. Not much had changed after a hundred and fifty years here. Well, that was a bit erroneous because a lot had changed here, it was just that the changes themselves were not all that drastic. The vehicles that were zooming all over the roads were definitely more futuristic-looking than their counterparts from 2015. The transports that did not require wheels were zooming overhead in the skyway lanes, creating a barrier from the ground to the cosmos. The roads had been repainted and the signs utilized a lot more holograms than just resorting to painted metal, but overall there was still a certain familiarity about the town which relieved me greatly.

Carmel 2.0, in a sense.

Downtown Carmel had also not changed much, from what I could recall. The city center still retained its original beach town look, complete with its trove of beach bums and hippies with the occasional alien thrown into the mix, even though a few skyscrapers that rose up over the neighborhoods threatened to disrupt my own image of the town. In fact, Carmel might have only gotten to be a wealthier town in the time that I had left on par with Monterrey next door. Swanky clothing shops lined the street and people rushed into coffee shops to buy overpriced and overheated drinks. Property like this only appreciates over time, especially property in California, so I guess I should not have been surprised at the natural evolution of the city itself. Forget Monterrey, Carmel had just gone full Santana Row.

I was still on Citadel time so I was not at all hungry, despite the allure of taking advantage of the post lunch rush lull. I completely ignored the multiple restaurants that I passed as I headed down the avenue towards a lush park a couple hundred meters away. Carmel itself was a busier town these days but it was leagues quieter than the Citadel that I relished the opportunity to think to myself while I walked outside. The sidewalk that led into the park turned into a worn footpath as I trekked up a small hill. I still knew where to go from memory and I counted the rows of stones that I passed as I happened upon an open field after passing underneath a grove of shrubs. I headed for the lone oak tree out in the field that was closest to me, seeking not the shade but the weathered object beside it.

Wringing my hands, I slowed my pace down to a timid walk and approached the marker in question, passing several objects just like it in its row. Shielded from the sun by the leaves of the tree, I sighed as my body was shrouded in shadow and cooled from the heat. I looked up at the scant beams that managed to penetrate the green cover before I mustered the courage to look down again.

The headstone that I was standing in front of was cross shaped, granite. It was cool to the touch and I patted the solid stone before I gave a sad smile and knelt down at the grave, unsure of where to look exactly.

"Hello…sis," I whispered.

As I slowly brushed my hand along the front of the gravestone, I traced the letters "TAYLOR MCLEOD" with my fingers. The indented print felt sharp to my touch and I gave the stone another pat of assurance – mainly for myself.

"I know it's been a while since I last visited you," I spoke to the air, "and for that, I apologize. Things have been…really crazy for me and I only thought of coming here rather recently. It's good to see that some things haven't changed, though."

I looked around the cemetery just to make sure that no one was within earshot. It appeared that I was alone so I turned back to my sister's grave and continued to speak.

"I haven't talked to Mom or Dad in a while, although I can't imagine what they had been thinking for…well, I'll get to that soon. They're doing fine. They miss you…and so do I. The last thing I can recall was them sending you their love, but I'm sure you know just how loved you were. To be honest, they're not doing too well as you leaving really took their toll on them. If only…"

I tilted my head as I imagined Taylor asking me a question. "Who, me? Actually…I'm not doing so hot, Taylor. I'm not going to go into too many specifics, but I just wanted to do this one last thing before I go. I figured I owed you that at least."

Sitting down, I looked upward at the clear sky and put on a pondering look, my heart beating a tad heavier despite the fact that I was technically talking to no one. "Knowing you, you'd probably want some sort of explanation for me being so late. I wouldn't normally tell this to anyone but you've always been the most open-minded person I've ever known – my greatest friend. Heh, I've heard that's the sign of a healthy sibling relationship. Are you ready? Here it goes." I took a breath for effect. "I somehow got whisked away to the Mass Effect universe...and now I'm here."

I could picture Taylor's stunned expression in my mind and I could not help smiling at the mental image. I relished the opportunity for a bit longer before I continued.

"I know, right?" I laughed to myself. "I'm in the world of that video game that you always used to play in high school. Remember that I used to mock you mercilessly for supposedly placing more stock on the virtual relationships in the game versus your actual relationships with real people? Well, look who's laughing now?" I paused to give the Taylor in my head the chance to reply. "I knew that you would be jealous of me, considering how much time you put into romancing your alien boyfriend. To tell you the truth, I'd rather you were here than me. After all the time I've spent here…I just don't think I'm cut out for this."

My head tilted as I imagined Taylor pressuring me with a well-placed question.

"How did I get here? Funny you should ask. Now, how can I put this as delicately as I can? Screw it, I'm just going to say it outright. I deliberately crashed my car in the city and got here as a result."

Yep, I could already imagine Taylor scolding me. I winced and grabbed at the grass below my feet for support.

"Hey, it's not like I knew this was going to happen. I had no intention of coming to this universe as I had no idea that such a thing was possible. You're not exactly the patron saint of living life to the fullest. I'm sorry to be blunt, but you were not there for the past eight years. I was _miserable_ back in 2015. I'm miserable _now_ , actually. I'm at my wit's end, Taylor. If you could only know of the pain I have been in since you left, you would understand my situation. I'm tired of either being a burden or having to carry this mental baggage around for the rest of my life. I just want to be done with everything. If I can't live a normal life, then what use is living for me?"

I stood up suddenly and shook my head as I turned away to face the dark trunk of the tree.

"Don't try to talk me out of this, sis. I've made up my mind on the matter. Besides, you know as well as I do that this place could become a warzone in a few years. If I'm not gone by that time, I sure as hell will be then. Besides, if there is an afterlife…and there better be, I might actually see you again when this is all over."

I screwed up my eyes in thought. "That is, if this next attempt does not take me to yet _another_ violent franchise. I've gone through more shit than anyone could ever hope to achieve in ten lifetimes."

Turning back to the grave, I walked to the side and slid my hand over the sanded stone one last time. "I won't be back to visit you again, Taylor. I just wanted to let you know that I tried. I really tried, but I couldn't go on. I only-,"

Wait. I just noticed something on the headstone and it didn't look right. I knelt down and rubbed my hand along the two numbers printed in serif font just below Taylor's name. There was nothing wrong with how the dates were printed, it's just that the actual numbers were completely different than what I had been expecting.

TAYLOR MCLEOD  
2157-2175

"What the hell?" I muttered as I slowly stood back up in shock. That made no sense. Why did this headstone indicate that Taylor had been born in 2157 and had died in 2175? She was born in 1989 and died in 2007. I should know that because I'm her freaking brother! Why did this grave indicate that she had only died eight years after the current year that I happened to be inhabiting now unless…

Unless Taylor had also been a part of this universe as well. Was this just a coincidence or did my lives in 2015 and 2183 directly parallel one another here? Taylor had crossed over, apparently, just like me. The grave was all the evidence I needed unless this was one elaborate practical joke. But was she always a part of this universe in the beginning, or did she cross over when I crossed over?

Now I was hopelessly confused again. Did the events in this universe play out in the exact same fashion as mine? Had the life of this Sam McLeod experience the same tragedies that I had, only to be diverted when I had been transported onto the scene? Was I just a wandering consciousness inhabiting the shell of an entirely different person? What the fuck was going on?

In any case, it made little difference. Taylor was dead here, same as when I was back in 2015. Whether it was from the same fashion, it did not matter. The situation remained the same and that was a change that had nothing to do with me, from what I could gather.

Then again, it had everything to do with me.

"Who am I?" I whispered as I backed away from Taylor's grave. "What am I doing here?"

I could no longer picture Taylor in my mind, cutting off my access to an assuring presence. The wind was now starting to penetrate my clothing, causing me to feel a chill. Clutching my jacket tightly, I quickly turned around and headed down the hillside path that led back to town. I felt more uneasy than ever, almost like the moment when you know you just failed an exam and there was nothing you could have done to earn a better grade at the time. I hated that feeling, but from the clamminess of my hands and the fierce beating of my heart, I was clearly not in a good way.

All right, Sam. You know what you have to do. You came here for a reason so you might as well complete your objective. No backing out now.

"Goodbye, Taylor," I whispered as I walked out of the graveyard. I had to fight not to look behind me.

* * *

I had passed an all-purpose convenience store when I first walked into town so I already had an idea for where I was going to peruse first. The place had all sorts of items on display from electronics to gardening equipment to even a musical instrument section. I had no idea of what I was looking for in the first place so I aimlessly floated from aisle to aisle for fifteen minutes, randomly picking out items that I thought would be good before I headed over to the registers with my catch for the day.

The self-checkout lines had the same basic function just like in 2015. Slide the items through the scanner (cameras denoted items via visual profiles instead of barcodes these days) and the screen tells you how much it costs. As casually as I could muster, I scanned and bagged a length of thick rope, a can of motor oil (a material apparently still in demand despite most vehicles being fitted with eezo fuel cells instead of internal combustion engines), and a canister of Naproxen - a popular anti-inflammatory drug.

The cashier manning the security station glanced inside my bag as I was exiting, while I tried to surreptitiously stare somewhere else, unsure if the woman knew of my sad intention.

"Rope, oil, and pills," the woman said out loud before giving me a sly smile. "Planning some kind of bonfire, are we now?"

"Ahahaha!" I laughed through my teeth, perhaps a bit too jovially. Acting casually when necessary really is not my strong suit, evidentially. My face might as well have been made out of hardwood, for it felt like such an effort for me to crack a smile. I'm sure the end result must have looked like I was constipated. "Just a few materials…for the house. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Damn it, Sam. Why did you have to ask if something was wrong with that? Now all the cashier is going to think is that something _is_ wrong with that!

Thankfully, the woman did not seem to notice or care and she waved for me to move on while she examined the next customer's purchase. Once in the lot, I slowly breathed out through my clenched teeth, shook out my arms to eliminate the tenseness in my muscles, and walked along the beach road without looking back. The sun was nearing the horizon by this point and would set within the hour. It would make for some good scenery while walking in the twilight.

It was completely ludicrous at how calm I was, but the chemicals in my brain that relayed fear and anxiety had been run completely dry at this point. Nothing left to do except put on a glib attitude. Who says suicides have to be somber and tense affairs?

It took me fifteen minutes to reach the park at Point Lobos, my final destination for the evening. The trailheads were clear of pedestrians, thankfully, which would mean that I would be able to carry out my business uninterrupted. I was on my second cigarette of my hike and I casually puffed out plumes of smoke while I walked. Despite my relative calmness, I needed to keep this overall mood subdued somewhat so that I would not flake at a critical moment. Two cigarettes was not going to do much, admittedly, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Heh, they said cigarettes would eventually kill me, but all of those naysayers would be proven wrong today. Take that Mr. Surgeon General! You and your warning labels can kiss my ass!

The roaring of the waves grew louder and I tramped my way through the parched grass of the park. Pushing aside the low hanging branches of a maple tree, I stopped in my tracks as I took in the sight in front of me.

White foamy caps of waves from the Pacific crashed onto the rocks thirty feet below me, swelling angrily. The cliff that I was standing on was sheer, immediately dropping away into the ocean. Jagged rocks lined the base of the cove and the wind was at its fiercest here. I flicked my cigarette over the edge and the strong gales nearly sent it back into my face.

Point Lobos was a peninsula of sorts that had been a spot of steady tourism in the past for visitors to Carmel. The site's jagged spears of land were great places for marine life to gather and people always had fun picking through tide pools for crabs and urchins, and also there were great places to spot sea lions as they sunned themselves on the rocks. Many a picture from amateur phone photographers that appeared on the many social media sites in the relative past came from this location.

I was not here for the wildlife, though, and I pushed past the shrubs to walk onto the barren and rocky outcroppings that towered over the tidelines. I took a peek over the side down into one of the smaller coves before I pronounced everything satisfactory.

Yes, this would definitely be a decent place to kill myself.

I dropped my bag of goodies at my feet, the blood-red sun nearly blinding me at this point. I took out the rope, oil, and pills and laid them out on the rocks one by one. The rope I tied into a simple not, partially because I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible and partially because I had no idea how to tie a noose and I did not want to waste any time on the extranet looking up the instructions. Laziness wins the battle again. Next, I unscrewed the cap to the oil container and tipped it so that the thick liquid splashed against the back of my jacket, dousing it with the foul substance and causing a stink to rise into the air. It's a new scent: _Ode de lubricant_. (The "t" is silent)

Lastly, I opened the bottle of Naproxen and peered into it. There were only fifteen capsules inside due to pharmaceutical restrictions, but I knew that fifteen capsules would definitely be enough to do the job. Without giving it a second thought, I proceeded to tip the bottle towards my mouth and I swallowed all of the pills without a debilitating amount of discomfort. All of this was most likely a bit extreme but when I had already tried to off myself via a car accident and that had managed to severely backfire, there was no way that I was going to take any chances whatsoever. Granted, I would probably be dead before the pills could cause an overdose, but it was better to cover all my bases in this case.

Still reeking of motor oil, I bent down to tie the other end of the rope around a protruding rock formation. I gave it a couple tugs to make sure that the rope would stay secure, but since I was never an Eagle Scout I could not really give it a certification of a hundred percent on my end. So much for the merit badge.

Bear in mind, I was fully conscious of my actions at this point in time. I knew what I was attempting and despite me not liking it, I still could not see the futility in my actions. I slipped the loop of rope around my neck and stepped to the edge of the cliff, my pistol now in hand. The gun itself was a last resort for me. If all of my preparations would somehow fail to kill me, then the gun certainly would do the trick. Point and shoot. Bang bang. Adios, amigos.

I thought about dwelling some more on all of the good that occurred in my life, but that would have just resulted in stalling my suicide. No, it had to be right now! I had to get my mind out of the clouds and do this!

Goodbye, cruel world, I believe the saying goes.

After I rummaged around in my pocket, I quickly brought out my lighter and ignited it near my back. The oil-soaked jacket immediately lit up and the flames spread all along the spilled area. This was the first time I had ever been on fire and although the sensation was not agonizing yet, I knew that it would be. The heat coming from the flames licking at my back was starting to get uncomfortable and I arched my body in an attempt to evade the pain.

All right, screw this. No more waiting around. The die has been cast and the timer set.

Clenching my eyes shut, I uttered a final, strangled curse before I took two steps at a brisk jog and leaped off the cliff, the rope snug around my neck and the fire streaming in the wind. The pills in my stomach ached uncomfortably and there was a weird sensation of weightlessness for a brief, blissful moment. I then quickly brought the gun that was still tightly held in my hand up to my skull, wasted no time in hesitating, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

To be blunt, I fucked up.

To be more specific, I fucked up my suicide. Again. In the most spectacular way in human history.

When I had fired the gun at the terminus of my leap off the cliff, I had my eyes closed at the time and my sense of coordination was not running at its peak. That meant that while I thought I was aiming at my head, I was actually aiming four inches above it. Pulling the trigger merely deafened me at first instead of killing me, but that was just the tip of the iceberg for what would happen next.

With a spot of most unfortunate luck, the bullet sailed harmlessly over my head and sheared directly through the rope that was trailing behind me, not yet taut. That sliced me free and saved me from a hanging, whereupon I plunged into the deep blue waters of the cove after a three second fall. Incredibly, I missed all of the jagged rocks that protruded from the ocean and landed in a safe zone that was murky with sand, submerging me for a bit. The water also had the side effect of extinguishing the flames coming from my jacket, ridding me of the danger of burning to death. To add insult to my non-injuries, when I discovered that I was harmlessly underneath the water instead of deceased, I had opened my mouth in shock. That caused water to pour down my throat, resulting in me spluttering helplessly as I surfaced. I inhaled another gulp of saltwater and I gagged, finally vomiting the contents of my stomach into the sea which included all of the pills in my stomach that had not yet the chance to digest. No more danger of overdosing for me.

The final disgraceful blow came from the ocean itself, as a wave picked me up and bodily sent me into an alcove carved into the rock. I slammed face first into the side of the cliff and began bleeding from half a dozen facial cuts, adding to the ever intrusive misery upon my personality. Tired, dizzy, and incredulous at my position, I blinked up at the sky while my damp clothes clung to my skin, an uncomfortable sensation.

It was only after a stray crab had begun to nip at my leg did I finally summon the strength to stand, still a bit stunned. Kicking away the offending crustacean, I hobbled along the side of the cliff that led towards the beach but not after letting out an unearthly howl of rage. The sound of the waves would drown out the noise to bystanders but, even though I was half-deaf, I could still feel the power behind my scream. All of the frustration, anger, and utter despair that I had kept bottled up for months on end became unleashed through this one drawn-out, guttural declaration. I kept roaring for at least a minute, shaking my fists at the heavens as if to say, " _Why me?!"_

Did this entire sequence of events come about as coincidence or were there higher powers at work preventing me from making a serious mistake? Am I not meant to die at this point in time or am I just reading too hard into this?

What if, after all, I was meant to be here? What if…this was where I belonged? If that was the case, then why didn't I know what my purpose was? I was tired of always being in the dark, not knowing what was going on around me. I wanted answers and I wanted them now, but I knew that the universe rarely gave explanations for all phenomena straight out. I was going to have to seek out the solution to this quandary all by myself.

Why me, indeed.

* * *

It had fallen dark by the time I left the park at Point Lobos. I was still a little too messed up for me to consider utilizing any form of transportation to get myself back home, so I had trudged over in my sopping wet clothes to a nearby motel and got myself a room for the night. The clerk had looked disapprovingly at my disheveled appearance but I was just so miserable at the time that I did not care what anyone else thought.

If only they knew what I had just gone through.

Now, I was sitting in the shower of the rented room, still clad in my boxers, while piping hot water rained down on top of me, warming myself after spending an ungodly time in those damp and salty clothes. I sighed as my tortured muscles relaxed under the spray. This was just what I needed after that shambles of a suicide attempt. There were a few blisters on my back, a slight rope burn on my neck, my stomach was giving me a little indigestion, and my face was marred by a few cuts. But I was alive. Alive and for the first time…glad.

Continuing to relish the hot water, I remained lying down in the tub for another half hour, thinking of nothing but how stupid I was. The steaming spray felt like it was slapping some sense into me the more I lingered here. Yes, I was stupid, an idiot, and a fool. Why did I ever come to the conclusion that suicide would be the best thing for me? That was the most immature and selfish mistake that I could have ever made. I clearly had learned nothing from my stint in 2015 and here I was trying to repeat it. Ironic that it had taken another attempt for me to see the error of my ways.

"No more," I whispered to myself, eyes half-lidded. "No more."

I slowly sat up in the shower, feeling rejuvenated from the sauna-like environment. After all…who said that I have to be miserable about everything? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was in a new universe where traveling in space was commonplace. I could interact with species outside of humans. I had the potential to be anything here, so what right did I have to be upset?

After all, the events of the games had begun to take shape in such a way that I knew I could not affect them greatly unless I deliberately tried to alter them. My presence would not be an intrusion here, I could still have a regular life! Oh man, why did it take me so long to realize how much I wanted to live? I could picture Taylor's face in my head, strangely not upset at the prospect of no longer being reunited with me, but proud that I had come to this decision. If she was here right now, she would probably give me a hug.

"I'm not going to kill myself," I said slowly and deliberately as I stood up, the water now approaching burning temperatures.

 _Say it again, Sam._

"I'm not going to kill myself."

 _Say it like you mean it!_

"I'm not going to kill myself," I repeated louder than before.

 _One more time!_

"I'm not going to kill myself!" I yelled triumphantly, punctuating my outburst with blows of my fists upon the shower walls. "I will not die here! Haha! I will not kill myself! I'm done! I'm done! _I'm done!_ "

Laughing for what had to be the first time in quite a while, I finally felt a weight lift off of my chest. I was free. No longer did my future look dark. On the contrary, it seemed almost blinding.

* * *

 **A/N: Believe it or not, Sam's latest suicide attempt was not an original situation conjured up by me. The exact same circumstances, as in the methodology and in the way the suicide attempt was foiled, were all taken step for step from a Darwin Award winner. He used the same materials (rope, gasoline, pills, pistol, jumping from a cliff) and still managed to survive it all in the same manner described in this story - which always struck me as a series of insane coincidences. The recipient of the Darwin Award may not have died from his elaborate scheme, but would instead perish from hypothermia as a direct consequence from being in the ocean for too long. Fortunately, Sam is still with us so you don't have to fear about me killing him off...yet.**

 **Despite there not being that many _Mass Effect_ elements in this chapter (or any sci-fi elements, really), I feel that this marks an important step for the development of Sam's character. It was a challenge to write and I anxiously await your thoughts. I'll throw him back in the action with the next chapter but I just wanted to spend a little time developing Sam's arc in order to make sure that he develops as the story goes on. **

**Not to crush your hopes or anything, but it could be a while before the next chapter comes up. My work schedule looks to be rather unforgiving in the future and, with the release of _Star Wars_ on the 18th, I highly doubt that I'll be able to write up another update before then. Best guess is that it'll definitely arrive before Christmas, but I'm just telling you this to err on the side of caution.**

 **Then again, why would you ever be awaiting a chapter for this story over _Star Wars_ when it is so close to its release? That's way more important than this! **


	8. Chapter 8: Bruises Accumulate

The ensuring weeks since my miserable (yet in some fashion fortuitous) attempt at joining the invisible choir were much less subdued than usual. I wasn't all chipper and hyper around my apartment, ready to meet every new day with a smile. No, I simply woke up in the mornings, ate my meals, and lived just like anyone else on the Citadel, but it was only now that I had no deep, dark, and depressing feelings within me weighing me down. You cannot imagine how good it feels to just wake up one day and not feel miserable – those precious few seconds of realizing what I have to look forward to first thing in the morning are perhaps the best moments of the day.

How ironic that I actually gave a shit about life now.

My change in attitude was definitely reflected in my social life as well. I bar hopped with Josh, went out with the occasional girl (still limiting myself to either humans or asari), slept with said occasional girl (nothing romantic had manifested between me and another person yet), and overall just tried to take advantage of every opportunity that was afforded to me. I technically might not have been the first person to make contact with otherworldly life here among other things, but with my mindset, I might as well be that first person. One could have a lot of fun dealing with "firsts" to do.

And then a little niggling problem showed up that halted my positive attitude progression for the time being.

Now, when I say niggling, I of course am referring to the massive battle that would eventually encroach onto the Citadel's borders, the result of the clash between Commander Shepard and Sovereign, the vanguard of the Reapers. To clarify, that battle had not happened yet, but it had been about a few months since I had last seen Shepard on board the Citadel, specifically when I had quite possibly saved both him and Tali ("saved" being a term that is still up in the air for me) from that initial ambush, and I was getting worried that the conflict initially being waged in the Terminus systems would bring itself here into the heart of civilization. No matter how you cut it, as a civilian I would be caught in the massive crossfire, utterly useless to anyone in terms of military capability.

Thanks to the extranet and the never-ending supply of conspiracy theorists, I was always provided with dates and times when the _Normandy_ floated into a civilized port for a time. That probably makes it sound like the _Normandy_ , which is a stealth ship, is horrible at being stealthy when any extranet conquistador can swoop in and filter out the profile of that ship from all of the junk sites and porn that has littered the digital landscape. Thankfully the ship was still living up to its reputation because there were only two major entries noted on one specific site that the Normandy had arrived at in the recent past: the planets Noveria and Feros. Both two important locations that Shepard had needed to travel to on his journey.

It had been three weeks since the last sighting of the _Normandy_ , which meant that the Citadel attack was most likely going to come very soon. And time was of the essence. In that case, there was nothing for it. As soon as I could no longer stand by and wait for my apartment block to be randomly blown up by an errant turret shot, I decided to take preemptive action in the only fashion that I could conceive.

Figures, doesn't it? Just when I start to appreciate my life something major comes across that threatens to destroy it. The universe has it out for me, I tell you. I'm pretty sure that if I stuck around and kept my head down during the action, I would still come out practically unscathed after the dust had settled. However, since I happen to now enjoy living a lot more than considering the prospect of dying, I was less confident of my chances of survival, knowing the kind of luck I usually head. Therefore, the solution to this problem came rather easily to me.

I got the hell off of the Citadel.

* * *

Did I consider this to be cowardice? Not in the slightest. After all, what use is some terrified, untrained human going to do in a situation in which I already know the intended outcome? The answer is nothing, so my presence on the Citadel was not needed and would be unnecessary if I stayed.

That was my logic of the matter, anyway.

I had taken my larger ship of my two out when I left the station because it was more comfortable and I had the capacity to survive for a month on end inside it. It might be technically classified as some sort of yacht, but I just saw it as the equivalent of a studio apartment that could travel through space. Same principle, really. The yacht was an ugly shade of gray and designed by turians, which meant that the exterior was very angular and mimicked the appearance of an avian species native to Palaven, the homeworld of the turians. It was odd for human eyes, but at least it did not look like a complete clunker.

The interior was a much better story. Aside from the cockpit, the yacht boasted a single sleeping area with a thin bed, a tiny bathroom with all utilities miniaturized, and a kitchen/dining area. It kind of reminded me of the interior of a submarine with how squashed everything was. Function, in this case, trumped fashion. Although to be fair, from what I've seen in photos this was probably one of the more luxurious models in terms of interior design so I guess I should not complain much.

This was what I had to contend with now instead of my spacious apartment for the past week and a half that I had been out here. I had limited myself to drifting in space aimlessly with my yacht, waiting for the conflict on the Citadel to boil down to a point when it would be safe for me to return. It was not all that boring as it sounded. The ship was stocked full of food, I had the foresight to download a ton of films onto a separate drive before I departed, and I was at the helm of the ship with the ability to go anywhere I wanted in the galaxy. An intoxicating prospect, most definitely.

Thanks to the miracle of technology, specifically FTL drives and mass relays, I could whisk myself away to view celestial objects astronomers back on Earth would have killed to see in person. I watched solar flares from an F-class star gently rise and arc away from the churning ball of energy. I skimmed the surface of an asteroid the size of a small city, marveling at the pockmarked ground beneath me. I flew through the thin rings of a gas giant, the nearby light of a binary system coloring them a brilliant blue. I even had the fortune to ride in the slipstream of a passing comet, my autopilot taking great care to avoid the gigantic ice crystals that occasionally became dislodged from the main body.

Space, man. I'm just going to say it, it's fucking _amazing_. It is absolutely boggling to my mind to see with my own eyes just how insignificant we are, at the individual level, compared to the scale of the universe. I feel like I've just been given the answer to life, the universe and everything, but my mind is so feeble that I'm not able to comprehend it all. After all, when you find yourself smack-dab in the middle of a cloudy star cluster, surrounded by billions of baby stars born from the dusty matter of a nebula, you tend to get a little philosophical about the fact that we are just cells given consciousness. Million to one odds, right there.

Goddamn, science is scary. Who needs drugs when you have all this beautiful imagery at your disposal?

Except nicotine. I got to have my nicotine.

Additionally, since traveling in space was not exactly instantaneous, as FTL travel could take up to a full day to travel across a specific sector of space, I had a bunch of free time left on my hands. I would either spend some of that time to peruse a few movies from my collection or work on the assignments that my PhD classes had given me.

That's right, not only had I discovered a new lust for life, I was now determined to get off my lazy ass and do something instead of loaf about for the rest of my life. And what better way to do that than to resume my PhD studies and go for that degree in sports medicine? The galaxy could always use another doctor.

It had been shortly after I had arrived from Earth that I realized that I could not spend the rest of my life career-less. Having no professional obligations might seem like fun on paper but the reality of the situation is that things do get boring eventually. I certainly can't party forever, can I? So, when the first inkling of boredom happened to impart itself upon me, I had the rather mature notion that I should crack down and complete the studies that I had left in limbo back in 2015. At least that would give me something to do for a good while.

Getting back into the saddle for a PhD program was not all sunshine and butterflies. The first obstacle that I had to contend with was the fact that the 2183 Sam had never pursued a career in medicine before, rendering his experience (at least on paper) down to naught. Essentially I was back at square one, which was disheartening at first, but I quickly figured out ways to overcome that issue, and the answer was online courses.

It made sense over time. Most universities in the twenty-second century had online programs, now more extensive than ever, that had been proven to rival going to class in real life. They even rivaled physical classes in terms of actual attendance, which meant that I did not need to bother with room and board costs or the like. The digital classes themselves involved extensive use of technology immersion to facilitate an environment for learning, with holographic VI teachers, online classmate collaboration, and individually recorded sessions for in-depth conversations regarding specific topics as the tools at the students' disposal. That way, I would not have to worry about commuting from my apartment to wherever university that decided to accept my meager application and could carry on with my social life in a more truncated fashion.

After building a resume and sending it off to a few schools on Earth, I was contacted within weeks from Johns Hopkins University, of all places. The extended an invite for me to participate in a placement exam plus an interview, all conducted online. Incredibly, I still had managed to retain the important bits from my previous studies at Stanford, and Johns Hopkins quickly offered me placement to their university to pick up my courses at the exact level that I had suspended them. What a stroke of fortunate luck.

After a few weeks of sinking back into my coursework, things were looking rather normal, all things considered. I was ahead in my research for my kinesiology classes, I was no longer bored now that I was using up quite a bit of my free time, and I was getting more and more used to this universe thanks to the nice transitional reality that the university was presenting to me with its "slice-of-life" atmosphere in the classes. The concepts for medicine were the same in 2183 as they were in 2015 which meant that it took me practically no time at all to put my mind to the tasks at hand.

All in all, I was doing better than I was before. My mind was stimulated, I was exploring the galaxy, and I was optimistic for the first time. Life was good.

* * *

After spending two weeks in space, I had fallen into sort of a rhythm for my day-to-day operations. It was the same schedule that I was planning on adhering to today. I woke after a restful seven hour sleep in my cozy bedroom on board the ship, stuffed myself in the cramped shower, dressed casually and made my way to the kitchen to fix myself a simple breakfast to start out my day. I had eggs yesterday so it was going to be oatmeal today – the flavored kind.

Space was such a massive place that I could practically park anywhere I wanted when I fell asleep. The ship's autopilot would get the velocity down to absolute zero to prevent drift and essentially stall itself in place, preventing me from having to worry about the automated pilot crashing me into the side of a moon while I dozed. So whenever I would wake and complete the bulk of my morning rituals, I would program my destination of choice into the autopilot and it would whisk the ship off once again. For today, it would be a journey to explore the Hourglass Nebula in the Osun system. More chances to add brilliant pictures to the ever-growing scrapbook.

With my oatmeal heated up, I grabbed the bowl and a mug of coffee, and sat myself at the table whereupon I powered up a holographic console. I had forgone my studies the previous day because I had been so engrossed in perfecting my flying techniques that I had completely forgotten about it. I needed to catch up on my xenobiology work if I wanted to pass the mandated test in a week or so. The professor for that class always ragged on us to study every single miniscule detail about the subject matter at hand, which partly irked me at his gruff attitude, but I did appreciate it somewhat because I do tend to work better when someone lights a fire underneath me.

I simultaneously ate my food and read through my required reading for the morning – a very comfortable position at least. Today's topic was all about quarians and their muscle systems. Specifically, one of the theoretical questions that was posed from the professor's holographic avatar was how different would it be to perform surgery on a quarian's knee if it were injured compared to an asari or a human? Yeah, this was way more detailed than I had initially been expecting.

The amusing thing about today's studies was that the provided learning material gave us detailed anatomical descriptions of quarian bodies. When I say descriptions, I mean pictures as well – high resolution ones. From what the material detailed, quarians did not look quite that different from humans. Actually, they were probably the most similar to us in facial appearances, considering the fact that their skull structure was remarkably alike and that they were the only other species to have hair – albeit their hair only came in varying shades of black. Their skin was also similar in texture, a very steel-like gray. They possessed luminous eyes, a mouth full of teeth, and analogous reproductive organs. Hell, the only things that were noticeably different about them were the slight changes in bone structure regarding their shin shape, reduced waistline, and number of total digits. That, and the fact that their amino acids were dextro chirality, like turians, rather than the levo chirality found in humans which essentially meant that our foods (and fluids) were incompatible with the other – but such a trait was not normally obvious to someone, at least on the surface level.

My thinking was, that if the weak immune systems of quarians did not supplicate the need for total isolation in enviro-suits, then they would probably be seen as highly desirable partners for humans considering the total amount of similarities. Alas, it is what it is.

The odd thing was that, considering the wealth of material that I had at my disposal, if I could just look up on the extranet what a quarian looked like underneath the suits, then why was it such a big deal at revealing one in the _Mass Effect_ games? Sure, the gameplay itself was probably not innovative enough to accommodate simulating an online encyclopedia, but every damn character in that game had been acting like they had no idea what was underneath the mask of the quarian. In their minds, it could have been a xenomorph hiding underneath that clouded visor and they would be none the wiser – yet I could just boot up my console right here and be rewarded with a series of images spoiling the reveal in less than a minute, so what gives?

Ah, whatever. I solved the mystery for myself so the issue of unmasking a quarian will be something that will never eat away at my subconscious, I guess. Woe to those in-game characters, apparently.

Back at my online workbook, I used the cursor to cycle through the different systems of a quarian body to see how one could repair a torn section of cartilage inside their knee in order to answer the posed question. Normally for a human, two incisions would have to be made at the front of the knee in order to access the meniscus and repair it. For quarians, since their legs were in a digitigrade shape and that the front of their knees were made up of more bone than humans percentage wise, I figured that incisions would have to be made to the _side_ of the knee in order to access the corresponding muscles. That way any major nerves or arteries could be avoided and the specified tools could gain access to the knee's interior. The system dinged as it denoted a correct answer and I silently raised my fist in victory before I continued on to the next question.

That was pretty much a summation of what the xenobiology course was to me. Just slight variations on human medicinal practices applied to foreign bodies. It was hard enough having to memorize various procedures just for one species but now I had to take at least _six_ more into account. Seven species to study in all! And that's not taking into account the fact that I had to analyze the individual traits that are exclusive to separate species alone. For example, there's the second set of organs that allows krogans to regenerate their health at an astounding pace, the asari's natural ability to possess biotics which results in a strengthened skeletal system, the presence of thulium in a turian's carapace which allows them to detect magnetic fields, and for form's sake, the series of black lines on the skin of quarians which are in fact extra sensors that are able to detect nearby electrical fields in some manner.

Fuck, now I feel impotent in comparison. As a human, specifically. What miraculous abilities do we possess that differentiates us from the rest of the crowd? Nothing that's apparent surface-level-wise, I'll grant.

However, before I could elaborate further upon my discoveries through my coursework, the ship suddenly rumbled as a flash of yellow exploded from the direction of the cockpit. Immediately I stood bolt-upright in confusion. I did not think that the ship had collided with anything as the autopilot's software was way too sophisticated for that. Besides, the feelings from the vibration were not as violent as if an asteroid had the misfortune to smash into the ship. No, the sensation felt more _controlled_ , less chaotic if that made sense. If not an errant bit of debris, then there could only be one other answer.

Pirates.

"HAL, engage FTL drives," I shouted towards the cockpit as I ran in that direction. "Get me out of here!"

Yeah, I named the VI for my ship HAL. What else could I call a digital assistant housed inside of a ship's computer that possessed a sinister edge to its intentions? I consider it to be a homage, not a rip-off.

"I'm sorry, Dave," the VI answered apologetically. (I programmed my name in the software as Dave for laughs, obviously.) "I'm afraid I can't do that. The FTL drives are inoperative caused from a local detonation."

I had reached the main pilot's seat at that point just in time to spot a freighter with a red insignia on its belly pass over my ship lazily. I craned my head to keep the rogue ship in my sights but it quickly passed beyond my field of view, leaving it up to my instrumentation to track.

"Is there anything you can do to evade the guys who are shooting at us?"

"Negative. I have no control of the ship's propulsion systems anymore."

Useless hunk of junk.

"Fuck's sake, HAL!" I snarled in anger, mainly to vent.

"I'm sorry, Dave," HAL answered in the same damn tone. "I'm afraid I don't recognize that command."

"Shut up for a minute!" I yelled. Technology could still be a pain in the ass these days. "Just initiate the failsafe option and see what you can about trying to get this ship moving."

I ran out back to the dining area before HAL could give his reply in that silky smooth voice. Wheeling about, I swiveled my head in alarm as I felt a shudder steadily rumble across my ship. My best guess would be that the pirates had already clamped onto my ship, and if they operated like all other pirates, they would try to cut their way in through the airlock door that I was currently staring at in order to claim their prize.

What could I do? I still had my pistol and knife on me but I was not quite so confident in my ability to kill anyone. There was bound to be more than one hostile individual on the other side of the airlock, the statistics of which increasingly dwindled my chances of escaping a firefight with most of my blood inside my body. Thinking quickly, I kicked open a hidden cabinet behind me and stuffed my weapons inside before I set a timed lock. Maybe if the pirates did not find me to be an aggressive threat, I would have a good chance to survive this ordeal.

By this point I could hear scraping sounds emanating from the doors as well as the high-pitched whirr of a laser saw. The miscreants were already in the process of breaking down my door. Surely they couldn't have tried the doorbell first?

With a sigh and the notion that I was only asking for trouble, I keyed the airlock comm and took a deep breath before I spoke into my omni-tool. "You know, guys, I'd rather you not damage my ship any more than necessary. I'd have appreciated if you had just knocked. Why not step inside and we can discuss this like civilized people? What do you say?"

I could not hear the pirates from where they were, but I did at least hear the laser saw stop running. That had to count for something, I suppose. Crossing myself ironically (still wasn't asking for spiritual intervention) I hit the switch on my console that unlocked the airlock doors. The red indicator flashed green and hissed open, allowing three intruders inside.

My face had to have fallen four inches. Why, oh why did it have to be _batarian_ raiders? Turians at least stuck to a code of honor, humans were mostly polite if they were in a reasonable mood, but no one liked to deal with batarians. Pretty much all of the batarian-run gangs place a high emphasis on slavery, as it represents an integral portion of their caste system. Never mind that slavery was illegal in Council space, I was technically out in the Terminus where Council laws did not apply. This was bad news; I had counted on this entire raid being an excuse for a few income-seeking ruffians looking to loot anything of value on this ship but these batarians might just find _me_ to be the item of value that they were seeking. Why am I constantly surprised at how easily events can switch up on me?

The leader of the squad was a large, scarred son of a bitch. I'm a big guy too but this alien easily had a few inches on me. He carried a huge rifle and was sweeping it around the area, looking for any potential ambushes in the dining area before setting his sights firmly on me. His two cronies, after receiving a miniscule head nod from him, began running all over the place, opening cabinets and spilling everything out onto the floor to look for valuables.

"Could you not?" I blurted out in exasperation as I made a pained face, watching the two mess up my meticulously organized kitchen. "You're only giving me more things to clean up around here!"

The big batarian bashed his fist down on the table that I was sitting down at, making me jump. "I would shut my face if I was you right now," he growled, giving me a good look at his jagged incisors.

"Look, if you want money, all you had to do was ask. Do manners not count for something among you people?"

"If that jaw keeps yammering, human, I'm going to rip it off your skull. This isn't a social call if you haven't got that to begin with. We're robbing you, plain and simple."

"Oh yeah," I replied with a hefty dose of sarcasm, despite the inherent danger. "I could glean that from the provided context clues. Thanks for having to explain your intent to me. Clearly you've forgotten the golden rule of 'show, don't tell' people when I can figure the situation out for myself. If only you – _hey!_ "

One of the batarians had begun to raid my fridge and had taken out a bottle of scotch, causing my train of thought to break as I now focused my attention on the henchman. The batarian cradled his prize as he glanced at me in bemusement.

"That's _my_ booze, asshole!" I emphasized. I was quite partial to my Macallan. "Get your own damn bottle!"

The batarian shrugged and took a hearty swig of the scotch just to spite me. " _My_ booze now, bitch," he laughed as he smacked his lips.

I made a face and ground my teeth helplessly. It wasn't the loss of the bottle that irked me, it was how arrogantly the manner in which it was taken. "If you lot had called ahead I would have put out a pot of coffee at the very least." My mouth was running of its own accord once again. I still needed to work on that. I began to tap my nervous fingers on the table repeatedly as I watched another goon take out all the pots and pans underneath the sink only to throw them carelessly on the floor, creating quite the racket. "Fucking really?" I asked, deadpan.

"Don't you ever shut up?" the leader sighed.

I shot him a look in return. "I'm so _sorry_ that my attitude has not warmed up to your liking, pal," I drawled. "Although, one would think that your record for taking other people's shit would not result in friendly encounters from your opposing parties, so-,"

"Sir!" One of the batarians came from the cockpit section. "This guy's got nothing good to take. All I've found in his room is more alcohol and a few porn mags."

"Private stash, you imbecilic oaf!" I called out, leaning to the side. "You don't go through a man's things without permission! Those mags are _mine_!"

"All right," the leader growled as he grabbed the front of my shirt from across the table, hauling me to my feet. Wow, this guy was strong on a whole new level. "Where do you keep your valuables? Everyone always has a safe on board these ships, so where is yours? If you answer me, I can promise that you won't be sent off to the mines to die with the workforce."

"Safe?" I gave a nervous laugh. "What safe?"

"Final chance or I'm hauling you out of here."

My eyes glanced everywhere, as if they were looking for an out of some sort. Finding nothing, I gave a sigh of defeat and went limp in the alien's grip. "Oh, all right," I muttered. "Underneath the booth, middle cabinet. That should be what you're looking for."

The batarians roughly shouldered me aside as they fought to search the place that I had indicated. With their greedy hands, they grasped the flimsy metal covering of the cabinet door and yanked it away. Silence fell with a deafening hush before one of the henchmen turned to face me and his boss, his expression one of utter confusion.

"The fuck is this?" he said in surprise as he gestured inside the cupboard.

Whereas an impassive face of an industrial-strength safe should have been revealed, instead there was a device about the size of a standard subwoofer – two large cylinders on either side of a compact control panel in the middle with a few scattered wires connecting different components. The haphazard design was intentional as all such devices are ubiquitous with nefarious intentions.

"Standard antitheft failsafe," I explained to the stunned crowd. "Modified, in this case. To be specific, and blunt just to save your brain cells the effort, it's a bomb."

The reaction certainly was quick as the thugs interpreted the danger that was now directed against them. They jolted in place and looked around fearfully like there would be some sort of disarming code stamped on the wall nearby.

"You stupid little bastard," the batarian growled as he wrapped a thick hand around my throat. "Disarm it right now!"

"Disarm?" I wheezed. "You misunderstand. That thing is designed to always be online in order to protect ships housed in drydock from boosters. It _can't_ be disarmed. Tampering with it guarantees detonation and, as you can tell from the compressed uranium housing, the resulting detonation would be substantial enough to destroy this ship as well as yours."

"That settles it, then. _You're_ our capture for today, not the ship. There was nothing here of use to us anyway."

Unbelievably, I managed to chuckle despite my relative lack of air. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, tough guy."

"And why not? Did you want to die after all?"

"Of course not," I grinned despite myself. "I've moved on from such selfish prospects. No, the real question is do _you_ want to die?"

The batarian gave me a hard look as he slowly withdrew a wicked looking knife from a holster at his side. He held the shiny tip near my ribcage, ready to plunge it in and slice my heart in two if I did not cooperate.

"You should think very carefully about your next words and actions," the batarian said dangerously.

"As should you," I responded. "When I mentioned that the bomb had been modified, I was referring to the fact that I had it programmed to sync with my implants. To put it simply, once again for your benefit, if you kill me, the bomb will detect my still life signs and detonate. Additionally, if you decide not to kill me and I happen to be removed from a certain area while the bomb is still active, which happens to be this ship, it will explode. And as an added bonus, I set its current mode to require a code word every hour to check if I'm still conscious or around the area. If no code word is received or if I happen to utter a detonation phrase at any time in case you decide to maim me and leave the ship while I bleed to death, I think you can gather what will happen next."

"You're bluffing," the batarian growled but his tight face revealed his misgivings.

"You really going to take that chance? You can't kill me, put me on your ship, or even knock me unconscious, for that matter. You won't be losing anything if you back out now but if you don't…then I'm afraid that your colleagues are going to have trouble trying to scavenge your remains for the funeral."

The batarian finally released me from his clutches, causing me to take a few steps back and to rub my throat. Behind the leader, his two goons had already started to skulk back out the airlock door towards their own vessel and I knew then that I had the upper hand.

"You talk big for a human," the batarian huffed almost admiringly. "A human who was two seconds away from getting his head lopped off."

"My stick happens to be bigger than yours," I retorted smugly. "I'm done speaking softly, so I don't really feel that much sympathy for someone who makes a living preying on people weaker than them."

"Obviously," the batarian muttered before all four of his eyes glanced upward in thought. A cruel smile started to spread across the alien's face and I wondered what he was up to. "You _did_ say that the device would only explode if your vitals vanished completely and not from erratic readings?"

Where was he going with this? "Well…yes, but I shouldn't see how-,"

The wind-up for the punch was telegraphed almost a year in advance and somehow I still failed to react in time. The batarian's fist slammed into the side of my jaw and I was sent sprawling, but not before I careened into the side of the table only to limply fall to the ground. The batarian laughed and delivered a kick to my gut for good measure before he followed his cronies back out the airlock door, leaving me bleeding in solitude.

"Ah…" I mumbled thickly as blood began to trickle out of the corner of my mouth. "Should have seen _that_ coming."

I guess that was an overall improvement from the last time I got in a brawl, though. Only one punch accumulated instead of a brutal beat down. Granted, I would rather not have to get punched at all but in this situation, what more could I have done to prevent it?

Geez, _Mass Effect_ was more dangerous than the hallways of a high school. At least from Hollywood's standards.

The yacht once again shuddered as the pirate's ship disengaged from the airlock. For a brief moment, I wondered if the batarians would fire upon my ship out of rage once they got out of the presumed blast radius, but after ten minutes of relative silence, I concluded that they had just given up completely out of frustration. Apparently this encounter was too aggravating for them to even consider tempting fate by trying to blow me up themselves.

Groaning, I sat myself up at the table and grabbed at a nearby napkin to clean up the blood dribbling down my chin. After, that I began digging around in my pocket for a few items while my bruised jaw throbbed. Where was the Advil when I needed it?

"Hey HAL, you still online?" I asked.

"Affirmative, Dave."

"What's the status of the engines on this crate?"

"Main propulsion system irreparably damaged," HAL replied emotionlessly. "Sublight drives knocked offline. FTL drives unresponsive. The ship cannot be maneuvered without repairs."

"Well, fuck," I grumbled as I got out my lighter and cigarettes. I lit one up and took a grateful drag. I know that smoking in a ship is not a good idea, considering the extra workload that it places on the life support system, filtering out the smoke and foreign particulates, but this was one of those times when I could not resist the allure. "Activate the emergency beacon then, and deactivate the stupid dummy bomb, will you? Passphrase: _Ambitious but rubbish_."

"Acknowledged, Dave."

Underneath me, the glowing detonation device made a small beep and quietly powered down, the displays dimming. I took another drag and gave a dry laugh. Those batarian dumbasses. Compressed uranium housing? They actually _bought_ that horseshit? How utterly stupid could they be to think that I would keep a radioactive device sitting underneath the place where I ate my meals all the time? Even a fifth grader could tell that the so-called antitheft failsafe device was nothing more than two stylized thermoses glued to a styrofoam case, spray painted and a bunch of wires added for good measure.

"Who's the tough guy now?" I chuckled through a haze of smoke. " _I'm_ not the one who got scared off by a hunk of junk with some Christmas lights on it. Heh, heh."

I had gone through three more cigarettes half an hour later as I continued to remain in optimistic spirits, strangely enough. The life support system, thankfully operational, was chugging along as it was beginning to struggle to filter out the carcinogens that I had been polluting the cabin with. Now I was starting to tear up from all of the smoke inside, so I stamped out the cig that I had smoked only halfway through in order to let the air filters do their job without me having to muck everything up.

It was surprising to me at just how aloof I was at the entire ordeal. Once again I had been confronted with a trying situation and had managed to get through it this time without a damaging blow to my psyche. Either I was getting used to such trauma or maybe I had finally stamped out that depression that had been hanging over me for months on end. Maybe it was just my experience with dealing with transitioning between different universes that caused me to come to the realization that life did not necessarily end after death. There was always another life to live, which was why I've been so carefree lately. Life was actually better for me this way when I realized that there were no consequences to departing a universe – consciously speaking.

That's not a rationalization for suicide by any means (I already said that I'm through with trying to attempt that!), but it is a justification for not being afraid of any mortal consequences. Oh, the power I wield from this information. Death certainly is the road to awe, I can see that now.

"Dave," HAL interrupted. "Ladar has picked up a ship profile two thousand kilometers out, heading in this direction. They most likely are responding to the emergency beacon."

I made the unconscious effort to glance at a nonexistent watch, only to activate my omni-tool when I realized I was staring at my bare wrist. "That was certainly quick," I muttered in amazement. "Less than an hour after the fact? Is that just luck or a coincidence?"

"I can only interpret that the series of events-,"

"Rhetorical question, HAL. Shut up."

The VI fell silent as I continued to muse. I walked towards the cockpit and watched what appeared to be a shuttle craft hardly bigger than my yacht come in on approach – no visible insignia or anything that denoted to me the craft's origin. There were no notifications requesting to board from the cockpit and ten minutes later I felt the craft vibrate once again as yet another ship connected to it. How presumptuous of these guys. Knowing my luck, I would not be surprised if these new guys turned out to be yet _another_ set of pirates looking to capitalize on the hulk left behind by my original attackers. Wouldn't that just be fantastic?

I sat back down at my booth and tapped my fingers expectantly as I waited for the new batch of arrivals to either identify themselves as friend or foe. I kept the door unlocked in either case, as I still did not want a bunch of brain-dead lunatics trying to cut their way through a perfectly good airlock threshold.

In short order, the door eventually did slide open, but the entrants were not the sort of people I was expecting. Actually, my mental disposition had assumed that it would be a boarding party of humans that would save me and not anyone else. (I'm still not completely acclimated to my environment, evidentially.) When I saw the suits and the faceless visors of the men who entered, I can definitely say that I was surprised to find that my ship continued to attract a host of otherworldly life from all corners of the galaxy.

Quarians. Quarians were to be my next guests for me to entertain. Wasn't I just studying these guys for my class? That was not much of a coincidence, but _still_.

"Hola, amigos," I saluted them with my pack of cigarettes. "You guys certainly got here fast."

The three aliens turned at the sound of my voice, startled. Apparently, because I had been sitting so still they had not seen me right off the bat and noticeably jumped. The three gentlemen were decked out in the same enviro-suit style, except that they were all colored differently: green, blue, and beige.

"Who the hell are you?" the green one snarled in surprise, his hands automatically reaching for the gun at his side. A bit jumpy, this one. Based on his prominent placement within the squad I had to assume that he was the de facto leader. This initial hostility certainly did not bode well.

"Who the hell am _I_?" I repeated sarcastically. "I happen to be the owner of this ship, pal. You know, the one you currently barged in upon without so much as asking for permission."

"Are you, now?" the quarian sneered. Where had this lip come from? "Pretty convenient for you to say, now is it? You sure that this isn't a ship that you simply stole just to lure all of us into a trap to take all of our belongings?"

Rude and paranoid. Just what I was looking for in a rescuer.

I could not help expelling a burst of disbelieving laughter. "Are you kidding me? Who do you think you are, the cops? This is _my_ ship, asshole, and the emergency beacon was not switched on for shits and giggles, you know. I mean, look at the state of this interior!" I gestured at the scattered pots, pans, and silverware for emphasis, my face contorted with disbelief. "Would I really let the interior of my own ship look like a pigsty if I had not fallen into troubles of my own? Do you not see the dried blood on my face? You don't believe me, I can get you the proper registration paperwork for you to peruse at your own leisure. Or had you been simply hoping that you could take this ship for your own purposes, assuming that it was unoccupied for you to take?"

"Are you calling us thieves?" the green one said defiantly. "We are not thieves, _bosh'tet_! You are just like every other human, judgmental and discriminatory towards our race. How dare you sit there and-,"

"Jeez, whoa, calm down," I interjected. I've seen live wires with less volatility. "I never said that you were looking to rob me. I only was suggesting that you had wanted this ship to be a hulk for you to salvage and were just disappointed to find me occupying it, that's all. I don't understand why you're getting all hot under the collar for a simple misunderstanding so I apologize if there was any faults in communication between us. It was not my intent to judge, believe me. I'm the _last_ person to ever do something like that."

"Now you're just mocking me, human," the quarian seethed. "I know that you are thinking that we're just suit-rats, vermin that are the cause of all your woe. Do you really expect me to believe that you're not judging us right now like everyone else has in this galaxy?"

"I'm seriously considering making an exception for you right now, actually," I said flatly.

"You _krath'an_!" the quarian cursed as he began to step in my direction but his blue-suited cohort grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"Easy, Vhen!" the man yelled, hoping to defuse the tension.

I held my hands up in surrender. "All right! Fuck's sake, man. You're a lost cause…Vhen, was it?" I then gestured to the blue-suited quarian. "I'll talk to you since you seem to be a bit more reasonable. The hell's _his_ problem?"

"Get some air, Vhen," the blue quarian said and Vhen fell behind, his body language obviously conveying agitation. What he was agitated about, I had no clue but I suspected that Vhen was a quarian who had been persecuted for too long and he was only venting his outrage against anyone within range. "I'm sorry about that. Vhen's had some bad encounters with humans on his Pilgrimage. Please don't take it personally as he can get quite…passionate sometimes."

"Well he should have left his emotions at the fucking door," I muttered as I scratched my beard. "I'm not the cause of whatever misfortune he happened to come across on his travels so he shouldn't take it out on me."

"Aren't you?" Vhen said mockingly from the corner. " _Aren't you?_ "

"Okay," I pointed in Vhen's direction. "He's seriously fucking pissing me off right now. Put a lead on him before he gets bitten, all right?"

"Vhen, please shut up!" the blue-suited quarian urged. Vhen gave a dismissive wave and started to silently sulk.

" _Thank you_ ," I shook my head. "You'd think I killed his dog or something. Seriously though, did my emergency beacon not tip you off that there was someone still alive in this ship?"

"Well, we _were_ expecting to find yet another unoccupied hulk ready for salvage out here like we have with the others that we've come across. The batarian pirates have always left cratered wrecks in their wake and we're just surprised to find a survivor that their boarding party did not enslave or exterminate."

I bumped my eyebrows up in surprise. "I guess that explains why you guys found my ship so fast. You've been tailing those batarians and sifting through the scraps they've left behind."

"How was it that you managed to survive?"

"Fooled them into thinking that this ship was ready to blow." I did not get the sense that these quarians were interested in robbing me, so I assumed that letting my guard down and telling them about the dummy device was not going to bite me in the ass. Risky decision, though. "They decided they wanted nothing to do with me and left me to rot."

The quarian nodded sagely. "Thus the emergency beacon."

"Yeah, those fuckers blew my engines out. You wouldn't happen to be willing to give me a tow to a nearby repair yard, would you?"

The blue-suited quarian shifted his weight on his feet. "Well, we're currently on a mission to obtain as much salvage as we can in order to procure enough income to sustain the flotilla. If we make a diversion to link back up with the fleet, which is the nearest place that this ship can be fixed, we will lose the trail of the pirates and our best source of salvage in recent weeks."

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "How much income are you guys planning to earn from your expedition?"

"Thirty thousand credits, which is below market price but it would go a long way towards maintaining some of our ships."

"Tell you what," I said, snapping my fingers. "If you take my ship back to your fleet and repair its engines, I will give you two hundred and fifty thousand credits for the job, a procedure only worth a hundred thousand, into an account of your choosing. Would that be sufficient to warrant such a detour?"

I even activated my omni-tool in order to show the quarians the balance in my sizeable bank account just to let them know that I was not speaking crazy talk. The quarians seemed to be stunned into silence, their eyes wide with amazement. Two hundred and fifty thousand credits was only a drop in the bucket for me and if these quarians were as poor as I thought, then this charitable contribution definitely looked like it could make a definitive impact for many lives back on their fleet.

The quarians were still gaping in astonishment. Tick-tock, time's a-wasting.

"That…that…" the blue-suited quarian stammered. "That…that w-would be ex-excellent! I…I don't know what to say."

"Then don't," Vhen drawled in the background. "You're not the one to make that decision, Rheas. Only the captain can authorize course changes. Besides, this human is probably trying to scam us with one of those shifty credit deals that I've come across on the Citadel. You give him our information and he will extract every last credit in our names."

If Vhen wanted me to hate him then he was certainly succeeding. If he wanted other races to not view quarians in a negative light then he was doing a terrible job at dismantling the established stereotypes.

"I assure you," I said carefully, "I am not trying to scam you. If your captain is the one to make this decision, then by all means, take me to see him or her. If need be, I'll even give you a deposit in advance if that will prove my legitimacy. Completely all from my end and risk free to you all."

"You'd best be quiet, Vhen," Rheas said, knowing that his squad leader could very well cause them to lose out on a two hundred and fifty thousand credit income slip. Now was not the time to play hardball when the offering donation was more than generous. To me Rheas gestured. "We will certainly allow you to talk to the captain and get everything sorted out. But there is one thing first."

Rheas pulled out a device from a pocket and handed it to me. It looked like a clear surgical mask with tubes that fed into a portable tank near the back. I hefted the contraption and looked expectantly at Rheas for an explanation.

"Standard rebreather. Unfortunately other races must wear some sort of covering over their mouths and noses when on board our ships. The tank is filled with a filter and a supply of a nitrogen-oxygen compound – self-replenishing, of course. The truth of the matter is that all quarians require keeping their ships clean of any foreign contaminants in case of the eventuality that if our suits breach, we have a better chance at surviving. It's just that anyone not masked constantly emits germs and pathogens that our immune systems are not able to cope with. You understand, I hope."

"I certainly do," I said as I slipped the rebreather over my face. It wasn't all that intrusive, to be honest. The mask itself hissed as a cool stream of air passed in front of my mouth and nose. I took a deep breath, finding the filtered air a bit stale but refreshing. I gave Rheas a thumbs up and he was able to understand it as a human seal of approval.

The airlock for the quarians took its sweet time in trying to eliminate whatever particulates had accumulated on our clothing. All four of us were crammed into a small space while decontaminating chemicals were filtered down from a vent at the top of the room. It stung my eyes and caused my skin to prickle. Had I not been wearing a mask I suspect that I would have wrinkled my nose from a harsh scent. As it was, I could only smell the recycled air going through the rebreather, so that was fortunate for me in some aspects.

Entering the hold of the quarian ship, I could immediately spot the contrasting architecture. The interior had a more lived in feel than my own yacht – the walls were stained and grimy, the floor was grated with an oily texture, and the lighting was rather poor and casted shadows everywhere. It was a rather industrial setting compared to the plush interior of my own ship. It was not the most hospitable of places which only made me feel for the plight of the quarians even more. God, I couldn't imagine living like this every single day. I've seen park benches that looked like more comfortable places to sleep.

It was only a short jaunty to the main deck, whereupon I could see that the place was arranged to run with a bare minimum of crew members. There was a slight pedestal in the center of the room where the captain stood, two crewmembers working consoles on either side of him, and two seats near the front of the room where a pilot and navigator where ostensibly seated. Flanked by the three quarians, I was ushered to the captain's podium who looked at me in surprise, intrigued to find a human in his presence presumably.

"Rheas," the captain said in greeting. "Found a stowaway, have we?

"Captain," Rheas said in greeting. "It turns out that this ship is not salvage as we thought. It belongs to the human here and he was simply awaiting assistance after the batarian pirates damaged it. However, he is willing to make a deal that I believe we should consider."

"Indeed?" the captain said, intrigued. "Well then, I'm interested to hear what you have to offer, mister…?"

"Sam," I said. "Sam McLeod, and I am willing to-,"

"Sam?" a voice uttered from the front of the room. "Did you say your name was Sam?"

Confused, I leaned to the side to spot the individual in the navigator's seat rise from their chair and hurry over to me. The lighting was still bad enough that I could not make out specific details regarding their appearance so I was a bit wary at the fact that this person had some interest in me.

"Keelah," the quarian said, a woman, as she approached. "I…I don't believe it. It _is_ you."

I was unaware that I was well known in quarian circles, never mind the fact that I could be identified even while wearing a rebreather, but my disorientation vanished as soon as the woman marched underneath the halogen lighting. They were wearing an enviro-suit that was jet black, the pattern on their hood a brilliant white, and their glowing eyes shone through a visor as red as blood. Everything clicked for me in one amazing, incredible, _horrible_ second, and my face slackened in astonishment.

"No…way," I breathed so quietly I was barely able to get the words out.

The quarian held her hands together so tightly that I could see creases start to form in her enviro-suit. "You…" she said, "…you remember me, don't you?"

Of course I did. No matter how many times I tried to put it out of my mind, it was impossible for me to forget the person that I carried out of that alley while I was simultaneously bleeding from several different places. I could recall the frantic gulps of her breathing as she struggled to get air while dealing with a punctured lung. My actions had changed the future for that person who now stood in front of me, the physical representation of my unwanted interference in this universe.

"I knew…all this time, I _knew_ I would see you again," the quarian was bouncing with excitement. "After all these months of searching, I finally found you, Sam. I am Nyareth'Kannos vas Xonna. I…I've been waiting to say those words to you for a long time!"

I could already feel my jaw muscles tighten.

God. Damn. It.

* * *

 **A/N: Of course that quarian would reappear in this story! What would be the point if I set up a major plot strand like that without following it further? By all means, speculate on where this could go.**

 **Just a notice, I am definitely not going to be adding any new chapters before or around Christmas, as I will be traveling during that time. Before New Year's maybe. No guarantees.**

 **Wait a minute...the 18th is practically upon us! Why are you reading this story instead of watching Star Wars? You're putting off watching the newest installment of a beloved sci-fi franchise to read some fanfic story that this author dinks around with on his off days? Out, out I say! Do not come back until you walk out of that theater with a big smile on your face!**

 **Priorities, people. Even I know that Star Wars takes precedent.**


	9. Chapter 9: Beyond and Between Worlds

The silence was finally broken from the captain giving an awkward cough, shaking me out of my paralytic state. I could feel all the eyes in the cabin looking at me but it was the soft, earnest gaze directly in front of me that pulled in every last iota of my attention. For some reason, I could not break away from the excited, yet slightly sad stare coming from the black-suited quarian, Nyareth.

Now that she was directly in front of me, I could see her form in much greater detail than before. I now was able to notice that her suit was not all black as I had previously thought, but rather varying shades of gray all cobbled together to form a rather strange collage of dark colors. An unfamiliar insignia upon a buckle held loops of fabric around her body, giving her a very worldly quality. Her hood was fiercely accented and the edges were stylized to give off a look of aggression, both amplified from the dark red color of her visor. A ragged and striped cloak around her waist hung still in the stale air. The blue light that signified her vocabulator had been rapidly blinking with her words – signifying her excitement. She had truly come a long way from the half-dead person that I had found in the middle of that alley. A lithe form, now full of life. There was an odd sense of relief that I felt, despite my misgivings, at seeing this young person back from the brink.

I'll have to admit, it enamored me.

"Kannos?" the captain now tried more directly. "You've met this human before?"

Nyareth gave a confident nod and pointed a finger at me. "Not only that, captain," she said around what I assumed was a rather large smile, judging from how her breathing seemed to be a bit labored and how she fought to keep from shaking so hard in glee, "this man saved me from a trio of people that would have killed me had he not fought them off and carried me to a clinic. I…I would not be _alive_ today if it weren't for him."

Oh no. She was trumping me up to look like a hero in front of everyone. It's not like that anything Nyareth said was false, but I'm not one to beat my own drum especially knowing that I had saved someone's life. Also, I would hardly consider jumping into a fight and getting my ass completely handed to me would hardly be called saving someone. If I had been a few seconds slower with slashing at that turian with my knife, I would most likely have been killed as well. Just for that, it was my prerogative specifically to _not_ brag about my supposed greatness. I'm not all full of hot air, you know.

"Really, now?" the captain said, a little more interested. He took a step forward in order to look me over a bit more closely, now that my achievements apparently warranted additional attention. "Well, Mr. McLeod, I was aware of Kannos' injuries when I took her on as my shuttle navigator, but I had not heard that it was a human that had enabled her to survive such a trying encounter. You certainly have my gratitude for lending your assistance to one of our own."

"Thank you, sir," I said carefully, trying not to stumble over my words. This had been such a shock that my heart was still racing. "I…only did what I thought was right at the time."

Bullshit, Sam. You had a spur-of-the-moment urge to act chivalrously without considering any of the consequences towards altering the future. For all you know, you could have still screwed everyone from enabling Nyareth to live. There's no telling as to how important she will be to the timeline, but one can never be too careful.

Meanwhile, Vhen made a harrumphing noise. "Really? You're _congratulating_ this human for what anyone with a positive moral center would have done in his position?"

I arced an eyebrow as I shot Vhen a dirty look. That was certainly uncalled for. Even though I was consciously being modest by not assisting in illustrating further my supposedly good deeds, saving someone from attackers was not really an act that most people would have willingly jumped into. It's the classic bystander effect: a psychological phenomenon in which people do not provide assistance when others are ostensibly present. Like it or not, even though most people (speaking optimistically) have a positive moral center would rather not get involved due to the ambiguity of the situation, a lack of cohesion with others, and the desire to diffuse responsibility to anyone else. For some reason, I had actually triumphed over the bystander effect which should have been an indication of my moral center to Vhen, which made his argument all the more puzzling.

I turned back to the captain. "Have I done anything to offend him?"

"I wouldn't get all worked up about it," the captain seemed to share in a dismissive opinion of his lackey. "Vhen is notorious for being rather abrasive with aliens."

"For good reason," Vhen interjected. "I've had spent enough time around aliens to know their true colors. This…Sam is not to be trusted. All humans are scoundrels, liars, and manipulators that only think about themselves and never others. Self-centered, never once thinking outwardly."

"Now you're just flattering me," I responded snarkily. Vhen had a hot temper and it appeared that when I was sarcastic towards him, he would get even more inflamed. I could control my own emotions up to a certain point so it was rather amusing seeing this man lose it over something so trivial.

"You don't fool me for a second!" Vhen barked, thus proving my point. "You saving Kannos was most likely not an act done out of the kindness of your heart. You were probably hoping that you could potentially benefit from saving a pilgrim in need in the form of a reward or something like that."

Okay, seriously. What the fuck was it with this guy? I haven't been panhandling out here in space and, if I recall correctly, I had offered to pay him and his people a substantial sum to repair my ship. Why would I ever be seeking a reward?

I'd have to watch out for this one. Vhen seemed unhinged and even worse, erratic. There was something about him that I could not read – something beyond my existence perhaps. I then decided that I was probably never going to like Vhen at all.

Before I could insult Vhen in kind, Nyareth stepped in front of me to face the man, her eyes narrowed in aggression. I nearly groaned in exasperation. Come on, lady. I don't need to be helped out here, I can handle this guy just fine!

"Stop it, Vhen!" Nyareth nearly shouted, surprising me with how ferocious she now sounded. Before she was squeaking and hopping up and down with delight and in no time at all, she had her fangs bared and were ready to sink them into Vhen's green suit. "Who are you to decide who this man is? He was the one who rescued me, not you! In fact, you were nowhere near me when I was attacked, or when I was lying nearly dead on a bed in a clinic! He stuck up for me more than you ever did – and you were my partner on Pilgrimage! You were supposed to look after me and yet I found your presence lacking. What has this human done to deserve your scorn?"

Vhen eyed me craftily before he looked at Nyareth. "I think that you should be more careful of the friends that you choose, Nyareth. If you had the same experiences that I did, you would be less trusting of this man."

"The friends that I choose? What friends, Vhen? _You?_ Why should it matter of the company I keep to you? All I have to contend with on this ship is you, a whiny and immature brat, and I would rather have been partnered with a _krogan_ had I been given the choice."

"Too bad, Nyareth. It was only fortuitous for you that I decided to become your partner on Pilgrimage, otherwise you would have been in even more trouble without me to guide you – and you've never been thankful for that. You _needed_ someone with my experience of the flotilla's ways to help you. Rightfully so, considering you did not have the upbringing anyone else on this ship did, what with you being the child of an exile and all that."

Good god almighty. What sort of pissing match did I happen to get thrust in the middle of? Apparently Vhen had struck a chord with his not-so-subtle emphasis on Nyareth being the child of an exile, whatever that meant. Even though its meaning was lost on me, the entire cabin fell silent once again and Nyareth went as rigid as a board. All I could hear were some faint mumblings from her helmet as she was either speaking stifled curses under her breath, or she had resorted to her native language in anger.

Thankfully, the captain stepped in again to defuse the tension while I switched my weight from foot to foot, trying to stay in the background. "All right, you two, enough! I've had it with your endless bickering! Vhen, you've gone too far this time. For that inappropriate outburst, you're on sanitation duty for the day cycle. Kannos, you'd best accompany Mr. McLeod to somewhere away from Vhen's earshot while we determine our next heading. Consider yourself relieved from duty until further notice. No penalties accrued on your end."

"Yes, captain," Nyareth said in relief. She turned to me and gestured to the door that led down the hallway, indicating that I should follow her. I gladly complied and as I passed by Vhen, I heard him utter the word " _bosh'tet_ " under his breath. I didn't need to speak whatever language that was to know that _bosh'tet_ was some kind of insult. Well, two could play at that game. Still smarmy, I raised my fist up to chest height, clenched it, and used my other hand to make a cranking motion, rotating it in circles while I gradually raised the middle finger in my clenched fist until it stood completely upright.

" _Go fuck yourself_ ," I hissed through my teeth, taking great care to emphasize every syllable.

I then hustled up to escape Vhen's next eruption, cackling to myself at getting in the last word. I have no idea what I did that could piss Vhen off like that, or what humans had done to him in the past, but his anger towards me was completely unwarranted in my opinion. Well, if he wanted to make an enemy, he picked the wrong asshole, because I can be one irate son of a bitch when prompted.

In the meantime, Nyareth led me down the dim hallway until we reached what appeared to be a mess hall of some sorts. The room had four sets of long tables, more than enough space to accommodate the entire crew from what I had seen, but currently devoid of anyone except the two of us. Nyareth sat down at one of the booths and I took the chair opposite her, taking a look around to determine if we were truly alone before I could begin to relax.

But I still could not sit still no matter how hard I tried. As I looked at the quarian across from me, it dawned on me more and more that this was an actual person whose life I saved. Her presence, her actual physical presence would have ceased to exist had I not intervened. Her very existence has already shaped the lives of the people around her – the proof of my meddling. But was this something to feel guilty about? What was the shame of preventing someone from dying? What did I have to be afraid of?

Then again, what right did I have to let my guard down and assume that Nyareth's survival would seriously alter the course of events? This was uncharted territory for me and I was helpless to do anything but watch.

"So…" I tried to begin, but the words failed me and left me looking rather awkward for a bit.

"So," Nyareth interrupted with a wry laugh followed by a tiny shake of her head, picking up my slack. "I think that the introductions could have gone a lot better than _that_."

My dry laughter was quite welcome. I admire someone who can find the strength to quip at anything. "I'm sure there have been worse. If Vhen had not been there, I wouldn't have put you in such a position."

"That's Vhen for you. He's like a varren I can't shake off. He always insists in being part of my life when in fact all he does is just annoy anyone within a ten meter radius around him."

"Glad it isn't just me that doesn't get along with him. How can you cope with a guy like him around?"

Nyareth crossed her arms, the shape of her eyes in a pensive expression. "Cope?" she chuckled. "I've never had the occasion where I could stomach him for a single _second_. What you saw back there is how he always treats me: with disdain. If I could get rid of him in a heartbeat, I would. The sad thing is that he's been the one person that I know the best out of everyone in the flotilla. I've had the misfortune to be around him for years, due to our common lineages."

I blinked at that and leaned across the table, my brow furrowing. "'Be around?' You mean you two are…together?"

Nyareth's laugh was straight from the belly. "No! Oh Keelah, never. I'm not _that_ desperate. Even though I've had the most contact with him for over ten years, like the captain said, he's too abrasive for me to handle for long periods of time."

"I was about to say…" I added as an afterthought before I gave a quick shrug. I cupped my chin and looked at Nyareth closely, taking in the intricate details of her suit – the ridges in the neckline, the looped fabric of her belts, the frayed edges of her hood.

Nyareth noticed me staring. "What is it?"

"Just the oddest thing," I said distantly. "I honestly never thought that I would see you again after…that day."

The quarian woman leaned forward. "Why didn't you? Why didn't you stay and wait, I mean?"

"Well…I…"

That was a good question. Go on, Sam. Tell her exactly why you didn't stay and wait for her to get out of her coma. I'm sure the answer will go over very smoothly.

"…I'm not sure."

You wimp.

I bit my lip in an effort to draw more conversation pieces out of myself. Nyareth was still staring at me, hanging on my every word. More pressure for me to perform.

"Look, Nyareth, I-,"

"Oh, call me Nya, please," the quarian said.

I lifted my head. "Nya…" I said, testing the word out on my tongue. "Nya. Huh, I quite like that."

"It's what my mother used to call me. No one else calls me that even though I like it better than 'Nyareth.' Is your name, Sam, a nickname as well?"

"Yeah, that's right," I said, impressed that the quarian knew that. "Short for 'Samuel.'"

"I like Sam better."

"So do I."

As I cracked a smile for the first time since stepping foot on this vessel, I could see Nya's body language soften as the atmosphere noticeably warmed between us. My first real face-to-face interaction with a quarian had been a complete bust with Vhen, but with Nya, the tone was much more friendly and welcoming. It was easy to forget that I was talking to someone with a mask but I felt that I could tell exactly what Nya was feeling based on the minute movements of her body along with the type of glow that her white eyes emanated. There was something quite captivating about those eyes, something that I could not fully describe that enthralled me so.

"You're staring again." Nya pointed out, her tone slightly teasing.

It took me a bit to jolt from my still position with a shake of my head. "Sorry," I apologized. "I was just being pensive. That's twice in the last ten minutes that I've heard a reference to your mother before. At least, was that what Vhen was suggesting when he called you a 'child of an exile'?"

Nya looked away forlornly. "I guess you haven't been exposed to our customs before. The concept of exiling must seem very strange to you. My mother…she was exiled from the quarian fleet before I was born. She gave birth to me on a distant planet and I was raised there for most of my childhood. I only first arrived to the flotilla when I was a girl and had to remain there for a couple extra years in order to catch up on my studies."

That didn't exactly answer all the questions that I had. "What did your mother do to get her exiled in the first place?"

"I'm sorry," Nya said simply as she spread her hands. "It's…not really something that I like to talk about."

"Oh," I quickly realized that this was a sore subject for the woman to my embarrassment. "I didn't mean to pry, Nya."

"It's no problem. For a human like you, I can see how you're intrigued by what is different."

"Trust me, I've been in stranger situations. I guess you can consider me an expert at adapting to different cultures if you were in my shoes. Although I've never encountered a culture that exiles people in person before."

"Well, I can't deny that I _am_ a child of an exile. However, because the population levels of all quarians hangs in a precarious balance, the law is that the children of exiled quarians bear none of their parents' shame and are allowed to rejoin the fleet. It was the right afforded to me when I first arrived on the flotilla. Even so, I've had to fight for everything, even among my own, because of the scrutiny that has been placed on my legacy. I've carried this stigma on me since I was born and no amount of effort on my part seems to register with anyone."

"So, the chance to bring your family name back, along with a successful Pilgrimage, is like some small semblance of redemption for you, huh?"

Nya nodded. "Something like that." Her eyes carried a lonesome look before the ice melted, bringing warmth to her gaze. Her attitude brightening rapidly, she shook her hands in excitement. "But that's not important right now. Oh, I can't believe that this has finally happened, Sam! I've been looking for you for months on end, but I could never seem to locate you. And today of all days, you're here! This…wow, I've been wanting to talk to you for so long I don't even think you know just how happy I am!"

I blushed and felt myself sinking lower into my seat. I've been called a lot of things over the years (many of them bad things) but never have I been told that my presence made someone so ecstatic before.

"You…were looking for me?"

"Why, yes!" Nya responded like that was the most natural answer one could give. "When I awoke from my surgery, the last thing that I could remember was your face as you carried me out of that alleyway. The nurse confirmed to me your first name, but he didn't seem to be able to recall your last name."

That was because I had specifically instructed the nurse not to say anything further than that. Good to hear that the man had kept his word.

"For an entire week straight I searched the Citadel for you," Nya continued. "But only having a first name to go on, while on a station with millions of people on it, I did not get very far. In the ensuing months after I had settled in back on the flotilla, I used my spare time to search entire databases for someone with your physical description, but I had the same rotten luck. I just wanted to know the identity of the person who saved me, when no one has ever gone out of their way to do anything for me before."

Even though I felt that my reasons at the time for keeping my anonymity were pretty much justified, I still felt a little guilty at having put Nya through a continued series of disappointments with my absence. For that matter, why did I not let her know who I really was in the beginning? I had already saved her life, so what would have been the harm in letting her onto my full identity? It probably would not have changed anything worse than I had already inflicted on the timeline, so what was it that I was running from? What excuse could I pull out of my ass to possibly rationalize this entire debacle?

Nothing, that's what. So I didn't even try and proceeded to put that thought out of my head for the time being. I can deal with my own erratic thoughts later.

I brought my hands together and gave Nya a sad look. "I find it very hard to believe that everyone you've ever met treated you poorly on your travels. I mean, you seem like a nice person to be around, so why would that not endear you to anyone?"

Nya's body twitched ever so subtly. Hmm, that was one tic that I couldn't fully read.

"You realize I'm a quarian, right?" Nya asked me.

I glanced in both directions before I gave a slow shrug, dubious. "And?"

"And we were the ones who created the geth that drove us from our home, leaving the rest of the galaxy to think of us as scavengers and thieves, right?"

"Quarians have never scavenged or stolen anything from me. Should I assume that all of you are thieves because a scant few of you have chosen to do something like that?"

"But…we enabled the geth to rise up and leave the galaxy in terror! Billions of lives were lost from our creation!"

I shrugged once more. "So? You never made any of those geth. Why should you pay for a mistake that should not be attributed to you when it happened so long ago? Why should I react in such a negative manner? Just because everyone else does is not an acceptable answer."

"B-But…" Nya seemed to be running out of ways of disparaging herself. "But everyone else-,"

"Why should I be like everyone else? On that logic, why should I have not helped you in that alley?"

"Because…" Nya stammered, lost for words. "B-B-Because…"

The transition from her previous attitude to the present was alarming. Before she had been enthusiastic and full of life; now she was slipping into a mournful mood. That depressed me as I wanted to see more of the happy quarian that I had been engaging in a conversation with. I don't like it when people think of themselves as garbage, especially people that have done nothing wrong in their entire life.

Nya's hand was gently resting on the table so my impulsive mind saw an opening and commanded my nerves to react. I reached over and grabbed her hand for a gentle, but reassuring squeeze.

It was interesting to feel her reaction, even through the suit. The covering itself, what was not covered by bits of frayed fabric, had a rubbery texture to it yet I could feel the slight bone structure of a three-fingered hand that hinted at a petite form locked away from the outside world. Nya jittered initially at the point of contact but quickly relaxed at my soothing touch. There was nothing manipulative about this at all, at least from my point of view. Sometimes, all one can say is in a touch. And that is also all what one can need.

"Regardless of how you think the galaxy should perceive you," I spoke directly to her, all while looking deep into her eyes, "that doesn't mean that I should treat you the same."

Apparently a simple grasp of the hand was not enough because Nya rapidly stood up from her seat so fast that I thought she wanted to move somewhere else. I was not prepared for what happened next because she took a step and a half in order to position herself perfectly so that she could give me a hug.

My heart skipped a beat, only because I was caught completely off guard with this action. Nya was holding me quite tightly, loose enough for me to not choke, but firmly enough that I could tell of a fierce strength beneath the confines of that suit. Blinking in surprise, my fumbling arms managed to wrap around Nya's comparatively thin frame in order to return the hug. After all, it's always best to be polite. The side of Nya's head pressed into my chest so hard that I swear that she was trying to hear my foreign heartbeat. The seconds slipped away and with the passage of time, the awkwardness lessened. In fact, I felt very comfortable in this woman's presence.

Nya gave a grateful sigh, her posture loosening as well as her hands around my waist. "You…are a very different human than most, Sam."

"Should I be taking that as a compliment?" I said craftily as I smirked at her.

"What do you think?" Nya sighed with equal snark.

Oh, I'm beginning to like her a lot more now.

Before I could form a suitable reply, a timid cough came from near the entrance of the mess, the sound causing the two of us to jump apart like we had been touched with a live wire. Near the doorway stood Rheas and behind him, Vhen. We had evidentially not heard them coming. I did not need to see Vhen's expression to tell that his lowered head meant a deep-seated anger of some sort. Whether it was reserved for me or Nya could be determined later but it was the fact that the man was still broiling with strong emotions that gave me pause. I needed to watch my back when he was around.

"Rheas," Nya said breathily, making sure to ignore Vhen by not even giving him a glance from her. I noticed that her posture straightened again and that the pitch of her voice was a bit higher and more formal. "Did the captain wish to see Sam again?"

Rheas did not even give her an acknowledgement as he chose to look right at me and cut to the chase. That was rather rude of him. "I just wanted to let Mr. McLeod know that the captain chose to accept his generous offer and that he diverted our course back to the flotilla an hour ago."

"Great," I said. This was good news. "When do we get to arrive there?"

"In five minutes time. We actually changed our route not long after you left the bridge. We're going to be re-docking with the _Xonna_ where you'll disembark and spend about a standard day while we repair your ship. In the meantime, the captain has appointed Kannos to be your escort until then."

"That's a relief," I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. I'd much rather spend my time with Nya than have to engage in a verbal sparring match with Vhen over the most trivial of conflicts. It was about time that I had some decent company for once.

Taking a glance at Nya to hear a quip in return, I was curious that Nya did not sound off as I expected. Rather, she was stiff and rigid almost as if she were standing in front of the pope himself. Odd turn of events, but I suspected that there was more to her body language than I was being let on. I needed to remember that I'm the outsider here.

After Rheas followed by Vhen left, Nya and I were left alone again. Her shoulders slumped and her breathing changed in tempo, almost like she had transitioned between the stages from running to walking. Guided from an unsaid cue, we looked at the other at the same time and gave a very similar shrug. Guess we're more alike than I would have thought. How odd that such traits can transcend species.

"Well…" Nya said, trying to break the ice that had been formed from the frosty atmosphere left in the wake of Rheas and Vhen, "…you're not mad that the captain assigned me to be your escort, are you?"

That was a silly question. So silly that I gave a quick laugh. "Nya, out of the two quarians that I've shared more than a hundred words with, you would be my first choice to guide me around your home. I'm guessing that the _Xonna_ is your home given the fact that it's part of your name, yes?"

"That's right. I currently am quartered on the Xonna along with everyone else on this shuttle. Have…have you ever visited the flotilla before?"

"Nope," I answered cheerfully. "Never. But I am up for seeing new and fantastical places. It'll be interesting in visiting your home. And I'd be delighted if you could show me around."

Nya was definitely beaming behind her visor. That gave me a pang. I don't think anyone has ever expressed interest in her presence before.

Do I even have the right to feel like an asshole now?

* * *

The quarian flotilla is described to have, in total fleet strength, upwards of fifty thousand ships in its ranks. On paper that is an impressive number. To see it in person is even more so. Imagine witnessing a complete mass of ships just jut out of nowhere, for there to be a clear boundary between empty space and an entire armada of vessels contrasting with one another. It was controlled pandemonium – an artificial collection of microcosms grouped up into squadrons, forces, and divisions.

Near the center of the huddled, metal mass, three gigantic ships, the biggest I've seen save for the Citadel, powered on through the slight gaseous arms of a nearby nebula. Entirely spherical bodies that rotated upon an axis, powered by four fusion engines that jutted out and ruined the overall contours of the impressive craft. Nya said that they were the liveships of the fleet, the enormous sources of food production for all quarians. All three of them were enough to feed the seventeen million quarians housed within all of those fifty thousand ships. Sounded like the quarians were nothing if not efficient.

The _Xonna_ , by contrast, was not as large as any of the liveships. To be fair, it was about average size compared to the rest of the ships in the fleet. It looked like an engine had been attached to a spinning wheel and left to its own devices out in space. It was a unique design that captivated my interest in that I was definitely ready to see more.

The shuttle clamped down onto one of the airlock door sets outside the larger frigate and opened shortly thereafter. The skeleton crew shuffled out of their seats and ambled out into the _Xonna_ as soon as the decontamination procedures had finished. Nya and I were among the last ones to exit, and I consciously made an effort to adjust my rebreather before I crossed the threshold.

I was expecting grandiose hallways, majestic pillars that supported an ancient yet hard-working vessel of a transient race. Instead I could only see more of the same grimy, metallic brown colored walls that stretched on in all directions. A few tapestries hung from the walls, the colors faded from time. Crates lined wherever there was empty space, some stacked neatly, others completely strewn all over the place. Dust was made apparent from the light of the stars out the viewports, draping over everything. The particulates were so thick that I could have sworn that I was walking through a cloud at some point.

What I could immediately tell about the quarian culture, though, was that they were a very social people. Everyone was at least grouped up with another in close proximity, no matter if they were standing, sitting, or walking somewhere. They made small talk, laughed and told jokes, and even shared meals of what appeared to be some sort of sticky paste in a tube. I'm just glad I ate beforehand otherwise I would regret my limited options that were afforded to me.

No one gravitated toward Nya, though. Not for a quick word, a report, or even a joke of sorts. As far as I could tell, the various quarians we did pass in the halls seemed to actively avoid her at any cost like she had an invisible shield around her warding everyone away. My subconscious edged my gait to the side so that I would amble a bit closer to her, just to make sure she did not feel left out. Of course, it might have been due to the fact that the quarians were suspicious of the lone human in their presence, but their gazes did not seem to flitter onto me at all. Rather, they would glance at Nya first then make the conscious decision to steer clear of her, so I don't think that I was part of their equation.

If Nya was upset by the lack of attention imparted in her direction, she did not seem to mind. Live with being a pariah for so long and eventually you get used to the idea.

"Most quarians are rarely welcoming to outsiders," Nya explained. "It's mostly because of the germs that you carry that causes consternation amongst some of us. But you've been through the appropriate decontamination procedures so you're considerably less of a potential contagion than normal."

"Well, I'd hate to be a burden in any shape or form," I responded.

We were headed to what appeared to be a gathering area of some sort at this point. The large room was packed to the brim with quarians all commiserating in their clumped groups, chattering in their own language (at least the stuff that my translator could not pick up) while also consuming their food: some pasty white mush sealed in a sterile tube. Apparently the quarians did not have that much of a diverse diet considering the fact that all of their food had to be prepared very carefully in order for there to be no residual contaminants. That in turn wiped out the flavor that had been barely present in the nutrient paste, giving it a very sour palate according to Nya.

Nya grabbed one of these tubes and offered to see if they had any levo foodstuffs that I could eat. I politely refused, both from the fact that I genuinely was not hungry at the moment and also that I was not particularly keen on eating sterilized food in this environment. Even having a TV dinner out in the open here could potentially be a breeding site for bacteria and other microbes that humans take for granted, all of which could be fatal to my quarian hosts. I could afford to go hungry for a short while if it meant not risking the lives of others.

Clutching her food tube, Nya led me over to a table situated next to a window. Peering out from the smeared glass, I could look down below and view the interior of the _Xonna_ in all its glory. It was like looking at a high-rise. Countless levels of rooms all protected by guardrails ringed and stacked on top of one another, creating a skyscraper effect. Quarians hustled on their respective levels, never seeming to stand still for very long. Exposed pipes and wires snaked around whatever space was bare, the only sound emanating from them was the coolant rushing through the smooth surfaces. I could not resist giving a low whistle of admiration.

The more I thought about it, the more ancient this ship seemed. I was willing to bet that, due to the rate of decay that I was witnessing, the _Xonna_ had to be at least a hundred years old. I decided to ask.

"Actually, the _Xonna_ is around two hundred and thirty years old," Nya responded like such an answer should have been obvious.

"No kidding," I downplayed my surprise. "Around the time this ship was built, the only impressive vessels humans had constructed were warships for our oceans. Let a couple centuries pass and everything changes, eh?"

"Right," Nya said somewhat morosely. "Of course, we haven't had a homeworld for three centuries, so I wonder sometimes just how much we might have progressed if we had our own planet to anchor ourselves down to."

I could not imagine losing the right to go back to my own planet. That was an eventuality that I've never really considered. I mean, technically I live on the Citadel now but I always consider Earth to be my home. To have that beautiful blue ball locked away from me forever…I don't know how I would react to that.

"You know, considering our own history, we've made many mistakes to get to where we are now. Constant warring with one another, persecuting other people because of race or sexual orientation. Humans have a long list of screw-ups in the past so why should the quarians be vilified for experimenting with new technologies? Truth be told, humans have no right to slander any other race for mistakes that they made alone. At least, from what you and Vhen described, it doesn't sound like you've met very many hospitable humans throughout your travels."

"No, not many. You just happened to be the one fluke." The words were dry, but her tone was a little light with a hint of mischief present. Ah, the presence of humor. Now we were getting back into safe territory. "A fluke that I'm still very grateful for, by the way."

"Don't be grateful for too long, I could still disappoint you." My words, although in jest, did carry more weight than Nya could perceive. If only she knew.

"I doubt that," Nya scoffed. "Unless you happen to be just as prejudiced towards quarians that you haven't let on to me?"

"Hardly. I would assume that if I had some sort of prejudice towards your people, that would have probably affected my decision to charge headlong into that fray."

"But it's a little more complicated than you're letting on. We created the geth and they subsequently drove us off our homeworld. It was our own fault that caused them to become a menace to the galaxy and to lock away that specific quadrant. Your people's mistakes never affected the galaxy negatively, only yourselves."

Nya finally broke the seal to her food tube and began to suck down her nutrient paste with gusto. The woman had to be starving based on how rapidly the tube was drained and I wondered how often the feeding intervals for quarians on the flotilla were. Suddenly, I felt the innate desire not to consume any food while I was here if there was a food shortage that Nya did not mention to me, levo or not.

Our hands had unconsciously scooted towards the other while we had been conversing, and repeating the familiar action came just as easily as before. Clutching her hand in mine, I could once again take note of the calming effect this had on Nya as her taut body relaxed in relief. I guess that with a suit-donning species like quarians, a touch can be quite cathartic. For humans, such an action can speak volumes. Does it mean the same for quarians?

"True, but that doesn't mean that you have to pay for those mistakes. Take what happened in the alley with those three punks. Did you even do anything to bring all that down upon you?"

"Nothing!" Nya said vehemently. "That's the thing, I did nothing to deliberately antagonize those people that were beating me up. One of them must have seen me poring over the blueprint that I had earned and assumed that I had stolen a valuable file. But, I didn't steal anything! That blueprint was _given_ to me."

"Blueprint? What kind of blueprint?"

Nya looked up for a pause, both of us now unconscious to the fact that our hands were still tightly clenched together, never mind the fact that she seemed to be clamping down on my fingers for extra support. It was only when her grip got uncomfortably tight did I start to take notice.

"At the time, I was on my rite of passage for the fleet, my Pilgrimage. To be more specific, I had finally gone on my Pilgrimage since I told you that I had come into my training late, thus necessitating me to be held back until it could be deemed that I was adequately prepared. I had specifically gone to the Citadel because I heard of the success stories from a scant few quarians that went there and came back with amazing finds, like a new ship or a working eezo core. And because I had spent half my childhood living in a desolate wayfarer station, losing opportunities to establish myself with my fleet-mates, I was determined to find an item of value that would definitively prove my worth to the fleet. To make it short, I lobbied myself for weeks on end before a small technology company took me on as an unpaid hire. Their specialty was working with the ionization of particles for the defense industry and my job was to assist in field tests, since I had an adequate background in engineering."

"Is that what you want to be?" I briefly interrupted. "An engineer?"

"That wouldn't be bad," Nya said. "But all I've ever wanted to be was a pilot. There's just something about being in command of an entire ship, leading it from destination to destination, that seems…I don't know…"

"Like you can be control of your destiny from sitting in that seat, having the movement of a gigantic vessel all at your fingertips?"

Nya blinked. "Well…yes. Exactly. When you're in that seat…you feel like you're the ruler of everything."

I grinned while our hands slowly slid out of each other's grip. "I know the feeling, piloting a ship. It's something that I've grown to love. What do you currently do now?"

"Me? I'm just a navigator for salvage runs like this one. I have to get more experience before they'll let me pilot something like a frigate of this size. Also, I'm a support unit for combat squads as a sniper."

"A soldier?"

"Every citizen does their duty in the service at some point," Nya emphasized. "Even the pilots. It provides all of us guidance for our choice of career, so it does help."

I scrunched my eyes up, apprehensive. "How old _are_ you, exactly?"

"Twenty-two," she said. "What about you?"

"Me? I'm twenty-five."

"Huh, so you're not that much older than me. What is it that _you_ do for a living, Sam?"

I smiled and looked nonchalantly at my fingernails. "I'll tell you if you will get back to your story right away. Sound fair? Sorry about cutting you off like that, by the way."

"That's no trouble," Nya said breezily. "I can understand that you can be overwhelmed with all of this information."

"You got that right. But I'm actually training to be a doctor at the moment. Nothing too outlandish there, but good enough to be considered a respectable form of employment."

"A doctor," Nya repeated in interest. "What kind of doctor?"

"I would like to deal in physical fitness, mostly. Basically I would work with the treatment and prevention of injuries related to sports and exercises. That deals with several muscle groups as well as ligaments and even brain trauma."

"Medical personnel on the flotilla are highly regarded," Nya added. "We might place an emphasis on our military capabilities but our medics are considered to be quite the masters of their craft."

"Humans tend to have the same regard for such professionals in our culture as well."

"Then there's some common ground between us," Nya put a hand underneath the chin of her helmet for support. "But back to what I was saying, after a few months of working for this company, one of the managers rewarded me by giving me permission to take my accumulated knowledge of my work back to the fleet in the form of a blueprint. I had figured out a way to utilize thermal energy in order to save on power while creating a nonvisible ionized beam in order to facilitate arcs of electricity. A very deadly form of attack if properly weaponized. I had been poring the schematics over beforehand while I was headed back to my hovel and I guess I had been careless with whom I was waving it around because I was cornered by those three thugs in that alleyway. They accused me of stealing and began to beat me. That was when you showed up."

I had been supporting my chin with my hands at this point, elbows on the table, my eyes steadfastly locked onto Nya's.

"Just like that?" I was surprised at the immediacy in which she described. "They did not ask you if you came about that blueprint legitimately?"

"No!" Nya exclaimed incredulously. "They did not listen to me when I tried to protest. In fact, not many people listened to me during my Pilgrimage."

"Listened? What do you mean?"

"I mean that everyone I tried to talk with either brushed me off or ignored me. Sometimes, I was even struck for no reason when the owners of establishments tried to get me to clear off for 'loitering.'"

I found myself scowling as Nya described her hardships. I'm white middle-class, so I really can't say that I've experienced any sort of racism in my life, but to hear firsthand accounts like that made my blood boil. I know that I can be an asshole sometimes and flat out boorish, but I've never antagonized anyone simply over their skin color or religion. To me, the concept of racism is flat-out barbaric and as backwards-thinking as it can get.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered out loud.

"…Sorry?" Nya asked.

I waved a hand in response. "Nothing. I'm just shocked that you had to go through such ordeals during your Pilgrimage. Where I'm from, there was intolerance, but there was always a gravitating need to be accepting of others. It just feels like we haven't learned any lessons since then." I leaned forward, glancing towards the larger group of quarians to my right before I lowered my voice. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"No, go ahead."

"I know I haven't spent that much time around you but I have noticed that you seem to be a little…stiffer around your fellow quarians than me. I don't know, it's just that you seem more energetic around me than you were with anyone else I've seen you correspond with. Why is that?"

The quarian tilted her head before she gave a tiny laugh. "I wear it that plainly?"

"Actually, I find that I can read people very well. I don't exactly need to see your face in order to know what you're feeling. Your exaggerated body language, for one thing, is quite revealing to your current mood, a tic that I guess had to be cultivated over the centuries since you lost your homeworld in order to properly convey emotions amongst yourselves."

"And you'd be right," Nya seemed impressed. "There is also an answer to your question, Sam. You're one of the few people that I've met that has not treated me with any sort of disdain upon meeting. You just said it a moment ago, that you don't need to see my face in order to know what I'm feeling. I'm not sure if you are aware of the significance of that, but to have someone like you, a human to boot, tell me that my hidden features are a nonissue is…surprising. Elating, definitely, but surprising. The fact that I'm a child of an exile does not seem to matter to you, even if it does to my fellow quarians. That's it right there – you respect me as a person."

It was definitely a good thing that I could mask my own emotions better than Nya could. If she was even aware of the turmoil I was facing inside me, she might rethink her opinion of me. I was now pretty sure that I had not screwed up the main plotline, but there was still a shred of doubt that ate away at me. Now that I had talked with Nya, though, I was convinced that she was a good person that had definitely been worth saving. In another life, if I wasn't so paranoid, things might have been different.

Shame was taking hold of me. Not just for my selfish thoughts, but for being in the situation where I had to actively consider if saving someone's life had been the right thing to do. What the fuck was _wrong_ with me? Was I always this cold and callous, or have I always been this way? Given the manner how I handled my breakup with Elizabeth, I'd say that there is definitely a dark streak inherent within me. But does that make me a bad person? If I acknowledge my faults, can I find my own redemption?

Why? Why can't I just accept that I did something good? Why do I have to feel sorry for this? _Why can't I let it go?_

" _Stop lying to yourself, Sam_ ," the tiny devil in me sang. " _You know what it is that you're really afraid of. How long are you going to keep this whole timeline crap up? Why not admit it before things go too far?_ "

Because I promised myself that I would not be put in that position again.

" _Too late. It's already started. You're just going to have to deal with it like everyone else. You think you're the only one to feel this way? You can't deny your true self, Sam. Why bother hiding it behind this poorly constructed veil?"_

This veil is all I have. It's how I've stayed sane all this time.

" _And yet the veil is tearing. No matter how much you try to sew it back together, it will always come undone. What matters is how you choose to deal with your inhibitions, whether you will be willing to destroy someone else for the sake of your own so-called sanity. Even you are peering through the ripped tatters at this point_."

Get out of my head… _Taylor_.

My dead sister floated free from my memory just in time for me to register the final few seconds of Nya's admiring summary of my personality. Before I could form a modest reply, I was quickly cut off by a melodious tune that wisped out of a crackling intercom. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and gave the music a few seconds of silent appreciation. It was a pure song comprised entirely out of vocals – one that I could not understand the words to – but it had a very otherworldly quality to it that made the harmonics and appropriate counterpoint stand out hauntingly. I felt entranced from the music, but everyone around me did not as they begun to shuffle out, clearing the room.

Nya too was starting to stand so I mimicked her movements. "What's going on?" I asked.

"That's our shift notification," she said. "We have a group of singers perform a hymn to denote when it's time for us to take our mandated breaks."

The quarian song broke off with a final, soulful note and the speakers fell silent after a burst of static.

"It was really pretty," I said admiringly.

"I'm glad you liked it. It's actually rare that anyone gets to hear quarians sing as we don't really do it outside the fleet."

"Well you should. I bet that there are people that would pay good money to have a recording of quarian hymns."

Nya laughed. "I should pass that along as a Pilgrimage idea. From what I've heard, recording contracts bring in a fair amount of credits."

"And you'd be right," I agreed as I followed Nya out back into the hallway. Wordlessly, we clambered into a nearby lift and took it down a few stories. We departed the box just when it was starting to get crowded and headed off into another nondescript corridor. My skin was starting to ache where the rebreather had its seal upon it. I desperately wanted to remove it for a bit, but then I remembered that I couldn't – not while on this ship. Damn and blast.

After passing a series of tight doors, Nya stopped at one of them seemingly at random, waved her omni-tool in front of the lock, and ushered me in.

"Welcome to my room," she announced.

It was not exactly a Ritz Carlton. My apartment in San Jose had been in better condition actually. It was not the fact that these quarters were cluttered and messy, but it was more of the fact at just how cramped everything was. A singular desk was situated at the end of the room and flanking it were two triple bunks built directly into the walls. The bunks themselves only had about four feet of clearance each, making them almost the dimensions of coffins and creating a very real danger for someone bumping their head when rising from sleep. I could see only a thin mattress for each bed, no pillow or blanket, and nothing else in terms of amenities. This was as Spartan as you could get.

"It…it isn't much," Nya seemed a bit embarrassed at her current digs but I was not disappointed in the slightest. In fact, considering how Nya had been educating me about her people over the last few hours, I was actually expecting something like a few twigs and some mud. Hell, a mattress was probably all I would ever need to get a good night's rest.

"It's just fine for me," I said, meaning every word. "I only need a place to rest my head for a few hours. I'd even take the floor if you pointed out a spot for me to lay down."

"Oh, I could never do that!" Nya was stupefied that I could ever lower myself to such standards – much less be accepting of them. "You're more than welcome to take one of the bunks. Everyone else is on their respective missions and won't be back for days. Feel free to choose any one you like."

"All right," I said as graciously as I could muster. "If you insist."

Making sure to duck, I had no trouble inserting myself into the bottommost bunk on the right side while Nya took the left. The mattress was hard and it was a little disconcerting looking at a ceiling less than a foot from my face. The coffin analogy was more prevalent than I had previously thought in my joking head but I was tired enough that I knew I would find sleep easily – even with all my clothes on. I positioned myself so that I was facing Nya's bunk only to see her on her side staring right back at me.

"Hey Nya?" I asked after suppressing a yawn.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Thanks," I mumbled with a smile. "Thanks for chatting with me today. It made what had been a bad day more interesting."

Nya blinked and adjusted the orientation of her head – definitely smiling. "You're…you're welcome."

"I would like to do this again tomorrow. Get to know you better, I mean."

Nya's head rose a few inches more. "So…so would I, Sam."

Yawning in full force this time, I settled myself in a more comfortable arrangement. "I guess that's as much a date if I ever heard one," I muttered lowly that Nya could not hear, but even then I still did not fully realize what I had just said. "I'll see you in a few hours then. Good night, Nya."

My eyes welded themselves shut and everything around me faded into the gray recesses of my mind, but not before Nya whispered her next words to me in her soft voice. They shone, even through the blackness, soothing me with its warm undertones. In that moment, for one unbelievable nanosecond, I felt completely at home.

"Good night, Sam."

* * *

 **A/N: Last chapter before the New Year rolls around and I'm still not even halfway done with this thing. Pro for you guys, con for me as I still have to write it all.**

 **Hopefully you guys liked this chapter, despite the dialogue-driven nature. Sometimes these chapters work, sometimes they don't so I'm interested to know how this resonates. I've got so much on my plate that I don't know how I find the time to write, but I'll definitely be more motivated now that Nyareth is officially on the scene. As to her importance in the story, I shall just sit back and let you find that out when the time is right.**

 **And no, that time is not now.**


	10. Chapter 10: Spur - Jealousy

Despite the rough conditions, I managed to sleep for all of five hours within that stuffy bunk, so that was definitely some sort of victory for me. Apart from some shuffling on Nya's end, the cramped room remained relatively silent during that period. Upon my waking, I found myself the sole person to occupy the area, Nya apparently having left when I was still dozing. Trying to find ways to keep my mind from becoming bored, I dinked around on my omni-tool for half an hour, looking at missed messages and playing a few games of sudoku before I decided to rise from my bunk and take a look around.

The rebreather was still around my face, the skin now feeling raw where the suction from the mask created an airtight seal. Chafing was a killer and I had no moisturizing cream on me. Thankfully, I would only have to wear this for one more day, then after that I could finally chuck this damn thing into the nearest waste receptacle. I was not going to complain while in company, but there is definitely a good reason why people do not like to wear rebreathers constantly.

Once I sat up, however, I had to bend over in such a fashion to avoid bonking my head on the next rung of the bunk, but that in turn caused me to wince as a jolt of stiffness emanated from my torso. I cursed under my breath and lifted my shirt slightly so that I could take a good look at the small mass of white scar tissue just to the left of my navel – the last remnant of my gunshot wound. Sighing, I began to massage the sensitive lump. That injury would probably never be the same, and although most of the damage had been repaired, there had still been too much trauma on some of my nerve endings which caused the area to have a lessened threshold for touch sensitivity. It also flared up if I put pressure on it the wrong way – nothing major, but simply irritating when the injury decided to make its presence obvious.

Just then, the door slid open and Nya walked in with two food tubes, humming a light ditty. She stopped in her tracks as she immediately spotted the blazing white scar imprinted into my skin as I still continued to lift my shirt. I felt like a deer in front of headlights as Nya stared at me for a bit, a little anxious at being scrutinized so closely. Maybe if she said something so that I could know what she was thinking, then I would not have to be concerned at all.

"Whoa," she breathed, giving away a curious vibe on her end as she continued to stare at my scar. "How did you get that?"

"Gun shot," I answered matter-of-factly, surprising myself with how nonchalant I was. After enough time, it was apparent that I had transitioned from taking such an event like my attempted murder seriously to a droll and light-hearted manner that oozed an air of 'Don't worry about it.'

"And I thought I was the one with the monopoly on scars," Nya murmured as she set the two food tubes on the desk between us.

"You never were," I smirked. "I had garnered this before I even met you." I let my shirt fall dawn and flashed Nya a sheepish grin directly. "Shows how much rotten luck I had. And before you ask, no, I don't recall how it happened."

"Not even a little bit?"

"The best guess that the doctors and I could come up with was that I had accumulated some sort of amnesia with regards to the trauma, causing me not to remember the event entirely." That was a half-truth, seeing as my consciousness as of now had not inhabited this body at the time I was shot. "Took a few zaps to stabilize my heart and a dose of medi-gel to seal the wound."

"Well, it's better than having a doctor cut you open just so he can cauterize a puncture in a deflated lung all the while fumbling about in your central chest cavity. Thank the Ancestors I was out cold for that."

I bit my lip. "Yikes. Were you able to see the aftermath of the surgery when you awoke?"

"Yeah," Nya nodded. "It was just an incision right here." She traced a line going straight down the middle of her body, just below her breasts. "Tiny little thing. I almost hit the doctors for making such a big deal out of what looked like a small, insignificant cut. Apparently it was necessary otherwise I would have started to drown in my own blood or go into cardiac arrest from high blood pressure. So, thanks again for that."

Rather sheepishly, I looked away. "I just did what I thought was right," I mumbled, fully knowing that my subconscious was roaring in laughter at my expense. I lightly tapped my own wound. "You had it far worse than me, though, and getting shot is not exactly considered to be a slight injury at all."

Nya cocked her head. "Not that much splash damage, from what I could tell on you. The scarring seemed to be rather neat and clean. Shields took the brunt of the impact, correct?"

I raised an eyebrow and nodded. "You hit the nail right on the head," I said before I realized that the idiom probably would not register for quarians. "Uh, I mean yes, that's right. Pretty good eye for that sort of thing. Perhaps your skills extend far beyond piloting," I said admiringly. "You seem to have the aptitude for medicine at least. Have you ever considered that as a career?"

Nya uttered a series of polite laughs. "Oh, not a chance," she said in amusement. "Piloting's way too much fun for me to give that up. Plus, I'm not a fan of having to deal with blood and guts all the time. Had I known that we were going to discuss this the first thing when you woke up, I should have held off in bringing you breakfast."

"No, it's fine," I grinned tightly as I reached for my food tube – I was starving at this point so even the mush in the clear cylindrical container looked somewhat appealing. "But being a doctor doesn't mean you have to work with sewing up stab wounds or pushing someone's intestines back into their abdomen. Take for example what I want to do – I'm only going to be dealing with repairing muscles, ligaments, and cartilage which, admittedly, is going to involve epidermal incisions, but the procedures themselves are very safe and less gory than having to deal with all the crap in the middle." I waved my hand about my torso for emphasis. "Put it this way, if you were having any heart palpitations or digestive troubles, I would be the last person you would want to be operating on you."

We both shared a light chuckle before I inserted the wide straw into my own food tube and slotted it in through a tiny port at the base of my rebreather. I took my first draw of the nutrient paste and let the taste of the substance sink into the taste buds of my tongue before I swallowed. I was careful not to make too much of a disgusted look, but I still was unable to hide my feelings for the food. The paste itself had the consistency of refried beans but the taste was far less pleasurable. It was slightly sour with a bitter edge, yet there was amazingly little flavor.

Nya actually seemed to be amused at my reaction. "I know. Terrible, right?"

"It's…interesting," I lied poorly. "I don't really know what I was expecting, but I can say with certainty that I've had much worse before."

"Well, on the flotilla it's all we can safely eat with what our current stocks of food allow. I'm sorry that we could only give you this to eat, though."

"No, no!" I quickly waved my hand, now feeling immeasurably guilty. "Don't apologize for things out of your control. I'm not trying to appear ungrateful – I actually really appreciate the hospitality you've shown me. In fact," I added, "I don't even think I've properly thanked you yet for showing me around the other day. Really, I enjoyed your company, so…thank you."

Based on how Nya's back straightened, I don't think she was expecting me to be this effusive towards her. You'd think that no one had ever paid her a compliment in her life. Christ, what a messed up galaxy this was.

"O-Oh…" Nya faltered like she had just awoken from a deep sleep. "You're…you're welcome."

I smiled to give some backbone to my words, trying to make sure that everything that I did put Nya at ease. We had both run out of things to say for the time being so we delegated ourselves to eat our tubes of paste in silence. It was weird if I took a mental step backwards to look past what I could see with my own eyes. Here was a human sharing a meal with an alien in her own room on board a spaceship in some godforsaken quadrant of the galaxy. If someone were to take a picture of this moment and send it back to 2015, I'd imagine that it would be considered a groundbreaking moment for humanity. For me, this was a normal as things could get.

I don't think that I ever could have predicted just how accustomed I would become to a universe like this in such a short time span. I mean, nothing really surprised me greatly anymore these days. I had gone from spending my days nodding off in college classrooms to flying around in the far reaches of space that could have only been glimpsed by telescopes in the past and engaging in extended casual communication with people of various races other than my own. You really can't get more far out than that. Was this why I had the ability to be sent here? Because I could adapt very well to my environment, whatever the circumstances?

Was I the only one like this in all of existence?

Not wanting to be rude, I polished off the contents of the tube, managing to hold back my grimace as I swallowed the last of the foul paste down. Wish I had some water to wash it out. In contrast, Nya seemed to at least tolerate her own food with little discomfort. Figures, given that it would be all she's eaten for all her life. Now I was imagining her reaction if she were to try out bacon for the first time. Such a strongly flavored food like that would probably be overwhelming to someone with as diluted taste buds as Nya's – having been forced to consume gruel all her life. After all, everyone loves bacon. My guess that she would be moved to tears upon a first tasting and I made a mental note to look up dextro alternatives to bacon when I got back home. Just a bit of light reading for the time being.

"Can I ask you a question?" Nya asked after she set her empty tube down.

"Why yes, they're real," I replied airily and had a good giggle at Nya's predictably confused reaction. "Sorry, bad joke. Sure, you can ask me a question."

The quarian crossed her legs as she adjusted her position. "You made it clear earlier that you have some piloting experience and I just wanted to know for what ships. I mean, your ship that my people are fixing right now, it's just a yacht that can be driven by any autopilot. It's not the most maneuverable or the most powerful model available, so I don't think that it's your go-to ship for piloting."

"And you'd be right," I said. "I just use the yacht when I want to spend long periods away from home. Usually, when I'm feeling an adrenaline rush, I'll take out my sport cruiser – a Cuval 8311-XHT – and-,"

"Sorry," Nya interrupted. "A _Cuval?_ "

"Yeah, why?"

Nya's eyes visibly widened. "It's just…I've always liked the design and specs of Cuvals. They're great for joyriding – not the most powerful on the market – but definitely very fun ships to fly from what I've heard. My people are great ship-builders…or were, but you can't beat turian-designed craft."

"Well," I reclined, "the next time you're out near the Citadel I'll let you take it for a spin."

"Seriously?" Nya gaped.

"Seriously. You've been at the piloting game for longer than I have so I wouldn't mind letting someone more experienced than I put that thing through the motions. You probably know a few crazy moves that I'm not privy to, I'll wager."

Nya's head tilted before she leapt to her feet, her eyelids slanted in anticipation. "Follow me," she beckoned and walked out the door. Quizzical, I dutifully obeyed and walked down the usual maze of cavernous halls and dusty airlocks. We finally came to a set of double doors, behind which was a maroon-suited quarian sitting on a stack of crates, apparently managing the entrance to a separate room beyond. The quarian was initially glancing at a holoscreen on the wall, which projected some sort of foreign sports program that I could not name off the top of my head. Based on the static marring the picture, I could guess that the only kind of content quarians could receive way out in space were pirated extranet signals. On the other hand, it probably saved them the trouble of having to deal with any telecom companies and their nefarious penny-pinching deals.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"A pilgrim about two years ago came back with some very useful technology that we implemented once we accumulated all the parts according to the specifications," Nya said, building up to the answer. "That technology went towards the production of engineering an industrial-grade flight simulator which we installed on a few ships – with technicians programming in extra scenarios to add to the experience every so often. Pilots need to log required hours on it before they can receive a suitable grade. That way, new trainees don't get to risk actual ships and they can refine their skills on a virtual craft."

The process was almost identical to the training airplane pilots had to go through, I noticed. Simulators had been all the rage back in my day because they presented significantly less risk rather than handing a rookie the keys to a jumbo jet and hoping for the best. The beauty of technology was that it promoted safety and it was remarkable just how alike the ideas of separate cultures turned out to be.

She then walked up to the guard, cleared her throat and said, "Hello. I was wondering if I could borrow the simulator for half an hour today, please."

Nya was up on her manners, I could certainly give her that. Unfortunately, they seemed to be lost on her fellow shipmate. With a disinterested grunt, he could not even spare her the courtesy of looking directly at her. "Sorry. Everything's booked up for the day."

Something about that man's tone told me that he was lying, but Nya's shoulders slumped in disappointment like she actually believed the man. That wasn't fair – she had been anxious to show me something on the simulator only for her to get locked out of actually doing it. Apprehensive, I looked out into the room beyond to see for myself. I certainly don't know what that other quarian was talking about, but I could see a beige pod of sorts supported by a hydraulic rig with a pair of steps leading into a cramped inner chamber. The door to the simulator was thrown wide open, revealing absolutely no one inside. Completely booked? Yeah, right.

What was insane about this was that Nya did not seem like she was going to protest this obviously erroneous claim. I made a strangled cough of incredulity, making sure that the word " _bullshit_ " could be heard by the man, but not to Nya. The guard glanced up and gave a start, kind of like he had no idea that I had existed before until now. He caught my cold stare (of which Nya could not see because I was standing behind her) and managed to glean from just that look that I was not buying the horse crap out of his mouth.

"Actually," the man corrected himself as he activated his omni-tool and thumbed through a most likely unrelated page, "I do believe that the simulator has an opening for a full hour right now. They…uh…the appointees canceled at the last minute."

"Huh. That's certainly convenient," I said in a light tone, not caring how unsubtle I was.

"I'll say," Nya said. "I was about to think that I had built all this up for nothing."

She _had_ actually believed the man's statements in the beginning. Poor thing.

The simulator was a bitch to get into, though. Nya was able to clamber in easily due to her limber frame but the fact that I was a bit broader than her due to my larger human proportions, which admittedly were already big to begin with (not saying that I'm fat), made my attempts to sit in the co-pilot's seat to be a bit of a faff. By the end, I had banged the top of my legs several times while maneuvering into position, wound up with a sore bottom from where I had sat upon the wrong object, and Nya was next to me unsuccessfully trying to stifle her laughs.

"Am I just that entertaining?" I asked mirthlessly.

"I'm…s…s…sorry!" Nya burst out between peals of laughter. She looked ready to apologize again before I joined in with chuckles of my own. They say laughing at your own expense is good for you, you know.

"All right," I grumbled as I began to buckle up my safety belt. "Let's get this show on the road. How does this thing work, anyway?"

Nya's hands were a blaze as they skimmed over a holographic console that just ignited, bathing the pod in a fiery orange glow. She hit the door control, sealing us inside and making the warm light ever more apparent. A menu screen then popped up on the wall, displaying to us the settings of the scenario that Nya was currently readying.

"So, what this does is create a realistic simulation of any type of ship," Nya explained. "The pod itself is designed to give off some semblance of acceleration, despite the fact that every craft has dampeners on it, for those seeking…a little more thrill. I think we'll go with that today, sound good to you?"

"Hey, whatever you want," I shrugged.

"Fantastic. Now, did you want a slower sort of simulation or one with lots of action?"

"It's all up to you. Pick one that you feel best allows you to show off."

"Fast-paced action it is. Um…you might want to hold on."

"Hold…on?" I was perplexed until panic set in unexpectedly. "Wait! When is the simulation start- _motherfu-!"_

Without warning, Nya yanked at a control, causing the housing of the simulator to vibrate harshly as the simulation began instantaneously. The sensation reminded me a lot of those motion simulator rides they had at every amusement park, only this one had much better graphics, mechanisms, and was more intuitive with its scope of control. The screen flared to life, barely showing the rigging of a nearby cruiser before a flash of a virtual explosion materialized in front of the faux viewport. Great, now I'm in a video game world playing a video game. Gulping, I clutched at the armrests as Nya expertly banked the "craft" to the right, evading the rush of oncoming enemy fire from fixed weapons emplacements. Crystalline shards of hull glinted in front of the canopy, sparkling and tumbling in the zero gravity. Squinting my eyes in terror, I could only see the rush of stars skimming by my view until Nya leveled the simulator out, revealing the setting for the engagement.

All I could see was a landscape on fire. Ships were parked so close to each other it seemed like a passenger could reach out and touch their neighbor. And every single one of them was cratered and pockmarked by weapons fire. Multicolored beams of boiling plasma zipped by, creating a tangled web of destruction. I could not tell which ships belonged to whom, but it was only after one of the closer cruisers sent a couple of virtual missiles in our direction did I get a vague sense of who the bad guys were.

"Uh…" I began as Nya sent the craft into a series of complex loops to throw off the missiles' tracking systems. "What exactly is the objective here?"

"Simple," she said tightly, concentrating entirely on flying. "Hold out for two minutes and don't get shot."

"And what happens if you do get shot? I mean, obviously we aren't going to die, but how does the simulator take that into account?"

Nya took a second to respond as she whipped the craft into a corkscrew while raking her main guns across the prow of a passing fighter in an admirable maneuver, causing its fuel tank to rupture and detonate. "Well…the simulator is programmed to punish failure, so the seats will electrocute you for a short period of time. You don't have any heart problems, do you?"

My face dropped what felt like a meter. I have a perfectly healthy heart, mind you, but in no shape or form would I have signed up for this had I known that an electric current would be passing through my body. For a few pulse-pounding seconds, I forgot the televised battle, the rumble of the simulator, and the bass rumble of distant explosions in my eardrums.

Finally taking a glance at my horrified expression, Nya gave a bout of delightful laughter. "Just kidding!"

Exhaling in relief, I clenched my jaw shut as Nya resumed her expert piloting, skimming in between pylons and hitting crucial points on enemy dreadnoughts. "Not funny!" I called out.

"Come on, you have to admit it was at least a little funny!"

"Only at my expense!" I retorted before I bit back a strangled curse as Nya deliberately dove through a ball of fire of what had previously been a fellow wingman. "Somehow I'm getting the idea that you're flying so brazenly just to get a reaction out of me."

"The thought _had_ crossed my mind," Nya wheedled.

She then sent our craft straight down a trench of what I could tell was a geth ship, evading turret fire from above. With a series of quick commands, we skimmed through the metal canyon, barely missing jagged barebones structures of exposed interior pieces. Nya fired a couple of missiles down the lane, careening them into an ion oscillator at the exact same time a nearby turret fired, causing the projectiles to drop underneath the shields at the precise moment. A brilliant explosion of blue and yellow blossomed from the impact site and Nya hurtled us sharply to the left to escape the conflagration. Before I knew it, the timer in the corner of the screen ticked down to zero and the craft jumped effortlessly into the swirly blue expanse of FTL speeds.

It was over. Nya had done it.

"Well, that was fun," she said as she stretched her limbs out in victory. I don't think she had even broken out in a sweat. I, meanwhile, was still clamping down onto my stiff seat, my muscles tight from nervousness.

"Talk about visceral," I croaked. "They really went all out in the realism department."

"Of course I doubt that there will ever be as big of a battle in real life as the simulation depicted, but it's good practice just in case that eventuality does arise. Do you want to give it a try?"

"I…what?" I said, certain that I had misheard her. This was unexpected.

"Go right ahead!" she urged as her fingers blurred at the keyboard once again, setting up the console for the main controls to be projected in front of my seat this time.

I balked as I struggled to make sense of the situation. This was like being handed the keys to a Ferrari when all you've been driving for your whole life was a Toyota. This was a simulation for a military craft, not some joyriding glider – those were two very different animals. As such, I was having trouble finding the proper button that started the damn thing.

"How do I…?"

"Oh, let me get that for you," Nya leaned over and flicked a control near the top.

The screen booted up once again, giving me access to the starry backdrop. I found the control for the throttle and gingerly edged it forward. Obviously it was more sensitive than I realized because the craft _shot_ out of the hangar like someone lit its ass on fire. Yelping in alarm, I hastily tried to bank the craft around but again, I had underestimated the sensitivity of the controls. Instead of a gentle pan, the craft whirled on a dime and rocketed directly towards the side of a ship that I had not even seen coming. I had little time to throw up my hands in reflex before the virtual nose of the ship crumpled in a split second only to be consumed by a blistering wave of flame. The screen abruptly darkened and the controls blinked in reset.

"I…think that could have gone better," I mumbled timidly.

"Obviously," Nya chuckled. "You died."

This was a blow to my pride, not because Nya was laughing at me, but because I had failed so spectacularly. I used to be a casual gamer a few years ago and, by extension, this was simply a giant video game. That sort of pedigree was apparently not enough to earn me the skills to succeed here, as evident by my pathetic run. Not even thirty seconds had passed before I had flown the craft into a battleship the size of Hawaii. You can't get more pathetic than that.

"I want another go," I said as I flipped the switch once more.

The screen reset for a third time and I made sure that all of my movements with the craft were done in millimetric increments. That didn't help as my jerky reactions to the sudden chaos enveloping the area around me were wreaking havoc with my otherwise calmer flying style.

"Someone's got a lock on you," Nya piped up as a caution symbol began to flare up. "Evade. Evade."

"How?!" I groaned as I clumsily began to put the ship in a dive. In no way were my movements as precise as Nya's, but it was all I could do to prevent from being smashed into paste at any moment. Miraculously, I passed between the spread of a turbolaser grouping, barely evaded a head-on collision with a geth squadron, but still the missile headed on course for me. "Should I try spinning?" I asked before I sarcastically added, "That's a good trick."

"Begin a reverse loop when the missile is two kilometers out," Nya said helpfully. "That way the missile's tight beam will momentary lose its lock on you, allowing an escape."

Grimacing, I held down the trigger button and felt a rewarding burst of pleasure as the guns raked open the hull of an enemy troop carrier and puncturing the propellant lines. Purple flames streaked out momentarily before the lack of oxygen snuffed them out, but the shuttle itself was dead in the water. I guess this round won't be a shut-out like my last effort.

I glanced at the time. Only thirty six seconds had passed. Eighty-four more to go, oh joy.

However, when I was looking at the time, I had failed to notice that the missile had closed the gap at an alarming rate. Panicked, I yanked the yoke back just like Nya said, beginning the process of a loop. The stars whizzed by and I started to feel the onset of motion sickness creeping up on me.

"Ah, too early, Sam," Nya clucked.

Jesus, I should have asked for an easier module. There were so many things that I needed to account for that my brain was overloaded with stimuli. It also didn't help that my loop somehow took me perilously close to the side of a nearby carrier – perhaps a bit too close for comfort. The simulator made a nasty shudder as all I could see for a terrifying second was the gray blur from the hull only to shy away to present back to me the view of the stars. Only this time, the craft began acting erratically, now corkscrewing without any input from me. The rate of spins was only increasing and I was feeling sicker than ever.

"I think you sheared your wing off," Nya commented in amusement. Even though I was making a hash out of flying this thing, she was still uncannily calm. I, on the other hand, was dripping sweat and terrified out of my paltry mind trying to make sense out of my surroundings.

Even though it would have helped nothing, I shut my eyes so that I would not throw up from all the spinning, but not before I saw the head of a blue-streaked missile head directly for the canopy only to detonate spectacularly. As the simulator righted itself, I slumped at the reprieve.

Nya was clutching her stomach from laughing so hard at watching my intense reactions. Even though I could hardly muster the courage to laugh along with her, I was glad that we were able to do this together. It was nice to hear laughter from Nya, knowing what she had been through and that she rarely got to share experiences like this with anyone else.

Once my clamminess died down, we extricated ourselves from the simulator (I had to work a bit to get out) and exited with all smiles. As we strode by the guard though, I glanced at him and expected him to give a passing comment in regards to our departure. Instead, he seemed completely rapt with attention at watching his pirated channels. Taking a moment to glance at the screen, I stopped in my tracks as I realized exactly what I was looking at.

The scenes of devastation being projected were not from a movie or our simulation recordings, but from an actual broadcast. Even distorted, I could still pick out the familiar scenery of the Citadel and just how ravaged it was. Recorded stills showed that trees had been toppled near the embassies – their trunks splintered, windows along storefronts were smashed from weapons fire, and apparently someone had parked a Mako tank near one of the elevator bays for some reason – and it had been rolled. It looked like the Presidium had been turned into a war zone and not even the Citadel Tower had been spared from the havoc. The sculpture in the middle of the water feature was ruined, completely smashed to bits. A few sparse fires smoldered next to gigantic pieces of what appeared to be a ship. The big window that ordinarily served as the barrier for the Council meetings was completely broken – most likely caused from the previously seen debris casually slamming into the side of the tower. Right then, I knew that the destruction that I had deliberately been avoiding had finally occurred on board the station. The Reapers had made their presence known to the galaxy and that Commander Shepard's journey had only begun. A victory at the moment, but only the start of the war to come.

"What happened?" I asked anyway, trying to make it seem like I was clueless to the current (or should I say future) events.

"You didn't hear?" Well, of course we didn't. We were in the simulator the whole time, genius. "The Citadel was attacked," the guard mumbled in awe. "They aren't sure, but some reports say it was the geth."

" _Geth?_ " Nya was horrified. "Why would geth attack the Citadel?" She walked in front of me to get a better view.

"No idea," I lied. "Shit…I could have been _killed_ if I stuck around there."

I definitely was not going to win any Academy Award for acting, but Nya's attention was so focused on the possibility that her people's hellspawn had finally risen up and wreaked havoc upon the civilized galaxy that she did not catch the obvious clues that I was projecting.

She stumbled backwards and laid a hand on my arm for support. "I…I…I'd better check in with the captain. I need to know what our plan is going to be if the geth were really involved."

"I'll wait for you back at your room, then," I patted her hand for assurance. "It sounds like it'd be best if I got out of the way for a bit."

"Right. I don't know when I will be back, though."

"I'm the unexpected guest, remember? You don't need to revolve your schedule around me. Take all the time you need."

Nya gave a thankful nod of her head before she bustled off down the corridor to the left. I headed in the opposite direction, back towards the lift that lead to the living quarters. In the small box of privacy, I allowed myself a small smile of knowing. If I remembered the games correctly, I probably would not have to embark on a journey like this for quite some time. Everything was proceeding according to plan and I could breathe easily for the moment. I evaded potential death and now I had at least a couple years before the next ugly conflict could rear its head.

Little did I know that the next ugly conflict would rear its head in approximately three minutes.

* * *

I was on my way back to Nya's room, hands in my pockets, gaze flitting from one quarian to the next as I passed them by, with my mind rather blank at forming whatever opinions I had toward the subject that I was currently musing over. Perhaps that was why I was so susceptible and distracted when I should have seen the next series of events coming.

Reaching the door to her room, I hit the switch for the entryway to open and as soon as it slid to allow me passage, I could feel a pair of footsteps resonate on the metal grate behind me but I foolishly disregarded them as belonging to a passerby. Two three-fingered hands then placed themselves firmly on my back and gave a hard shove, sending me sprawling to the ground and almost causing me to break my neck as I landed just inches away from the desk. My forearms felt raw as they were skinned and my knees jolted painfully.

Snarling, I groped at the sides of the bunk to haul myself up, but a kick to my ribs sent me down again, stunned. The hands groped at my shoulder to turn me around and I hissed in response as a familiar, green-tinted visor returned my furious stare.

"Vhen!" I grimaced. "What the fuck?!"

The quarian punched my gut, a cheap shot. It produced the effect he was intending, which was for me to painfully rasp as the wind was knocked out of me. Even though he was smaller than me, he sure had a lot of strength in him.

"Don't think that I don't know what you're trying to do," Vhen growled, trying to be menacing. "I'm not as stupid as you think."

Coughing and spluttering, I screwed up my face in confusion. "What the fuck are you _talking_ about, you lunatic?!"

Vhen now grabbed at the collar of my shirt, bringing my face closer to his visor. Looking back, I'm sure that I could have laid the man out with a few answering blows of my own, but I was still too incapacitated and befuddled to even consider mounting an attack against him.

"What am I talking about? I'm not being cryptic, we both know what's going on here."

"Then enlighten me," I hissed as I put a hand over my ribs, where I was sure a bruise was now forming. "I'm quickly losing patience with you."

"You've already lost mine," Vhen retorted acidly. "I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you, so I'm going to tell you this just once: stay away from Nyareth."

I think I busted my gut in uttering my hysterical laughter after a pregnant pause. Of course, since it was all wheezing on my end, it sounded like steam escaping from a kettle.

"That wasn't supposed to be funny," Vhen was not amused.

"No, it wasn't," I agreed while wincing from my aching ribs. "You just don't know how ridiculous you sound, kid."

Vhen uttered a string of words in his native language before he shook me hard. "Don't you _dare_ call me a kid! I'm twenty years old, _bosh'tet_!"

I slapped his hands away. "I've got five years on you, junior. You're just as immature as a teen pop star. Tell me this, why the fuck should I stay away from Nya just because _you_ , of all people, said so?"

If I could see beyond the visor, I would have observed that Vhen's face turned a nasty shade of red. He then gave my face an open slap that was meant to be insulting than injuring before he delivered a kick to my shins. Now thoroughly annoyed, I took a swipe at him to drive him off and the quarian jumped back, evading my half-hearted blow.

"N…Nya?" the man uttered in a whisper. "You're…you're on a _nickname_ basis with her?" Before I could suitably respond, Vhen gave a keening roar and punched the wall next to him. I finally stood up from the floor, uncertain on how to proceed. I was still not sure if Vhen had gone completely mad as of yet. "How? How can it be that she has opened up to you more than she ever has with me in _less than a day!?_ "

"I don't know," I responded mockingly. "Maybe it's because you're an asshole?"

He then pointed an accusatory finger at me. "You're just trying to take her for yourself! You're a human and that means you're just going to end up hurting her!"

I sighed and crossed my arms in exasperation. "Does your ass get jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth? You've got some issues, boy. I've met _rednecks_ less racist than you and that's just sad! Despite what you may think, most humans are not the type to deliberately take advantage of their hosts, I assure you. Besides, why should you care about Nya anyway?"

"Because _I_ love her!" Vhen hissed as he took a step closer, his hands pounding on his chest. " _I'm_ the one who loves her and she's given you more attention than me! How is that fair?!"

I think that my face transitioned from shock, to confusion, to incredulity, and to utter skepticism in the span of five seconds. Whatever reaction or utterance Vhen was expecting, it probably was not the cross between a choke and a gag that came from me as I attempted to laugh and breathe at the same time. In retrospect, it was hilarious. At the moment, it was not.

"You… _you?_ " I repeated in a high-pitched voice before I coughed again. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Does it sound like I'm joking?"

"I can't tell if you're hopelessly deluded or that…" I blanked as an idea just came to me. "Ah. I see now. It all makes sense now."

" _What_ makes sense?"

"The attitude, the abuse, the constant insults towards her. It's so obvious. You're _negging_ Nya."

Vhen blinked. "Negging? What is that?"

Huh. Either that did not translate correctly or it was a word that only humans had in their vocabulary. "Negging, you uncultured dunce. It's a courting strategy where you try to undermine someone in a backwards way to make them more vulnerable to their advances. That explains why you've been rude to her all this time. As a child of an exile, Nya apparently has been friendless and you thought that you could position yourself appropriately by ruining her self-esteem even more. That way, with you the only person willing to communicate with her, albeit in a negative fashion, she would feel drawn to your presence."

"I don't see how that makes any difference. Her bloodline is tainted and I believe that I'm helping her by being the only friend she-,"

"Why don't you shut the fuck up right now?" I interrupted savagely. "You're just trying to justify your manipulative tactics when in fact you are already doomed to fail as such psychological fashions have been proven to backfire tremendously. Your strategy is not going to work no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise. Nya doesn't like you, kid. Already I can see that she's not someone who can be easily manipulated emotionally. I've observed a portion of the hardships that she's had to face and your insulting attitude is not going to tip her over the edge. You're only making yourself look more despicable in her eyes. Actually, if you want my honest opinion, whoever's willing to fuck you is just too lazy to jerk off."

The multiple disparaging comments finally did the trick. Vhen shoved me hard against the side of the bunk and leaned in so close that, if he was not helmeted, I would be able to feel his breath on my face.

"She will _not_ sleep with you, do you hear me?!" he quietly growled. "I swear, if I see you with her again, I will kill you."

It was odd, interpreting this sequence of events. For one, Vhen's general attitude angered me to no end, so that was strike one. Strike two was his physical violence aimed in my direction, not to mention the threat of future assaults leveled at me. Like most people, I don't really take kindly to people threatening to kill me, especially if the one threatening me is a hormone riddled young man just out of his teens with a stick up his ass. And there was strike three, which was a doozy. Vhen was implying erroneously that my entire motive to spending time with Nya (which had not been completely my choice, mind you) was under the pretense that I could sleep with her. What a crock of horseshit. The outrage flooding my brain was rightfully deserved.

Perhaps it was the fact that Vhen was implying that I (and, in his eyes, Nya) could fall for someone in less than a day that was unbelievable, or maybe it was that I could somehow fall for a quarian at all. To hell with the quarian part actually, falling for _anyone_ at this point, especially for me, was a concept so outlandish and so potentially devastating due to the fact that I could be breaking my own personal promise that I reacted with shock and anger.

Forget about me not trying to get involved with the main plot. This went way beyond that in a deeply private way. Something within me stirred, horrifying me to my core. Energy welled up from the fissure, surging through my muscles and into my hot blood.

Positioning my arms underneath Vhen's, I pushed hard against the quarian's chest so powerfully that he was practically thrown back out into the hallway. He did not fall, but stumbled so severely that it looked like he would tip over at any precarious second. I followed with my arms raised, ready to deck him, and Vhen scrambled back timidly. It was interesting, now that he had lost the upper hand, Vhen seemed smaller and more scared than he was when he was threatening me. Not so tough now that I was swinging the bigger stick, eh? He seemed to be weighing the options of taking me on in a fight as he had combat training, but I was bigger and had more power with my blows.

I expected Vhen to run. What I did not expect was for him to bellow at the top of his lungs, " _Guards!_ "

Instantly, I found myself surrounded by five quarian soldiers who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. They leveled a variety of weapons at me and I could tell that they were not playing around. The random pedestrians that had been ambling about in the corridor at this time halted in their tracks, naturally drawn to the commotion. Vhen took the time to slink off behind the marines while they formed a circle around me. One of them shouted for me to put my hands up and I reluctantly complied.

"All right," I muttered in a semi-snarky manner. "All right. So that's how it's going to be."

"Corporal, explain the situation." one of the marines said to Vhen.

"The human here assaulted me," Vhen said snidely – like he was proud of having an excuse to rat me out. "He would have done serious damage to me had you not shown up. Arrest him!"

"You piece of shit," I blurted out, forgetting that anything I said could be used against me at this point.

The marine's gaze never wavered, nor his weapon. "We have no jurisdiction over the human, corporal. Did anyone else see what happened?"

Vhen balked. "Well…no. It all happened in the room over there."

"Then it's hearsay and we have no recordings to prove anything. Anyway, we have a report from the engineer crew that this human's ship has been repaired and the credit transfer has completed successfully. Legally, without definitive evidence we cannot hold the human against his will. All we can do at this point is send him off away from the fleet in his ship."

"Fine," Vhen dusted his hands. "Works for me."

Two marines moved to take my arms and frog-march me back to the hangar. But we had hardly gone five feet before a familiar voice piped up from the back of the growing crowd.

"Wait!"

The marines turned, giving me a clear view of the woman who was pushing her way through the mass of bodies. Vhen moved in an attempt to block Nya but she handily shouldered him out of the way, but not before the other soldiers deliberately stepped in front of her way.

"Let go of him!" she urged to her fellow shipmates. "This human is no danger to any of you."

"This crewmember of yours says different," the lieutenant shrugged as he tilted his head in Vhen's direction.

Nya looked at me, her eyes silently pleading for an explanation. Vhen stepped forward to recount his false version of the story but Nya never so much as gave him a glance.

I lifted my hands in defeat, but never looked away. "It won't make any difference what I tell them, Nya. Their minds appear to be made up already."

"This human is a liar," Vhen loudly accused. "He is dangerous, volatile, and should be removed from the _Xonna_ at once."

"Be quiet, Vhen," Nya silenced as she forced her way through the blockade of marines. She walked up to one of the soldiers holding me and pried his hand off my arm with a rather strong grip. The other soldier backed off and Nya looked up at me expectantly. Right then I could tell that she knew that my version of events, even though they had been unspoken, were representative of the truth. We were both all too aware of Vhen's reputation to take anything he said seriously and I admired the dedication and trust. "You didn't strike him first, Sam!" she whispered to me. "You have to tell them!"

I shook my head determinedly. "I'll be fine, Nya. It's not that big a deal. They're not going to execute me or anything like that so I'm not going to bother damaging any more relationships than I have to."

"But you can't just let Vhen do this to you!"

Oh, but I can. Nya did not realize it yet, but this would only give her more reasons to dislike Vhen. Perhaps this was the moment when she would come to hate him. I knew this – but everyone else was blind to the fact. In any case, Vhen's plans would never come to fruition and all I would have had to deal with was a bit of public humiliation. If I left here today, Vhen would lose his ultimate goal and I would win from his failure.

"They're not going to budge on their stance. I'd rather comply with them and leave peacefully. Don't get involved, Nya, please. I'd hate to see someone like you get dragged into this."

Nya pounded my arm miserably. "It's not fair! You didn't do anything wrong! They can't just separate us – not when I just met you!"

That gave me a pang. I knew very well where Nya was coming from. She had left her parents behind when she came to the fleet for the first time. I had lost my sister from circumstances outside my control. We both knew what it was like to be deprived of people close to us. I might have been the one person in years that she had opened up to like this and now we were being forcefully pulled apart once more. I guess I had finally met someone in this galaxy that has had just of a tumultuous past as me.

"Don't worry," I patted her hand, feeling her trembling through the suit. "Knowing our luck, there will be another opportunity for us to meet." I gave her a warm smile. "If you ever make it back to the Citadel, just let me know and I'll find you."

Nya, to her everlasting credit, did not even seem close to crying. No, she was too self-controlled to show such strong emotions in front of strangers. In response though, she raised her arm, glowing from the omni-tool wreathed around it, and held it near my left arm. A light on the back of my hand flashed orange once, then green. Nya's omni-tool deactivated and she lowered her arm back to her side.

"What was that?" I asked her.

"I linked our omni-tool addresses so that we _can_ talk to each other," Nya said. "That way, we'll always be in touch."

I glanced at my hand in awe, now considering the subjective power that lay at my fingertips. Linking addresses, now why didn't I think of that? Maybe it was because that I still did not have quite as much of a grip at all of the newfangled technology around me. I've become an old fogey, it seems.

Nya grabbed at my hand one last time to say goodbye, as it seemed that neither of us could muster up a proper parting statement. I held her hand tenderly, noting in my peripheral vision that Vhen was steadily getting more and more incensed over by the far wall. After what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, I finally released my grip on her fingers and voluntarily walked down the hall with the two soldiers continuing to escort me. I did not look behind me because I did not want to see the expression of hurt reflected in Nya's eyes.

It would be over a year before I would see her again.

* * *

 **A/N: First chapter of the New Year and I'm still not even halfway done with writing this thing. I'm just very grateful for all the kind things people have been saying about this story, seeing as I intended it to be a light chance to experiment with prose and characters. Now look, it's become my most favorited and followed story. Funny how some things work out.**

 **The review issue concerning a few of them not showing up due to a site error just a few days ago has been resolved, so you can be assured of that function working properly again now.**

 **Also, since I like to utilize music to provide good reference points for my writing, I like to assign pieces of music to certain characters in order to help me with visualization. Harry Gregson-Williams' "Mars" from the film _The Martian_ I think serves as a suitable theme for Nya as it's a simple piece, light on instrumentation, but also feels rather lonely yet it still contains a shred of hope underneath the subtext. Expect to see her popping up in more chapters along the way - she's still got her own character arc to undertake.**


	11. Chapter 11: Aberration (Existence)

The sterile white lighting of the operating room no longer appeared foreign or alien to me. On the contrary, it felt like a place that I belonged now. Funny how perceptions change over time. Only I was not the one being operated on – bound and bandaged after yet another mishap with yet another miscreant of the night - now _I_ was the operator, or to be more precise, one of the operators of the surgery that I was currently administering. Who would have thought – I'm still kicking.

The chilling air felt refreshing on my skin, keeping me alert so that I wouldn't sweat profusely. The patient lay on the pea-green chair/bench combination underneath me at waist height, unconscious, an IV at the back of her hand. She was an asari, wearing a modest hospital gown, with her right leg exposed for us to work. A few tools were inserted into small incision points around her knee, being as minimally invasive as possible in order to reduce the amount of time that the patient would have to recover. She had torn her ACL while making a play for her bioti-ball team, the lateral motion stressing the ligament which caused it to tear in the first place, and this surgery would be the first step towards her treatment. It was amazing how advanced modern medicine had become – the surgery to repair torn ligaments proceeded with the same techniques just like it did back in 2015, but muscle therapy via specialized steroids and specific medi-gel applications reduced a healing period of around a year down to four weeks at the minimum. To have gained such progress in four weeks was unheard of for someone like me, but they had the technology here to do such miracles. After that relatively small window, the asari would be back on her feet to play for her team again, her leg as good as new. Imagine that.

It had been a year and a half since I had returned from my jaunty on the quarian flotilla, and I had come back to find that my apartment had been miraculously untouched from the recent conflict – much to my relief. The ironic thing was that I probably could have stayed in my apartment throughout the entire conflict and I would not have been in any danger of dying. Well, what would one do in that situation? Ever since then, paranoia had become rampant among the populace due to them thinking that the geth could attack again while I very well knew that the geth were not the true aggressors, but again, I kept my mouth shut. If people wanted to believe that the geth were the true threat, let them. The wool would be pulled from their eyes sooner or later and I knew that I would not – _should_ not – be the one to do such a thing. They'll figure out the truth soon enough.

During this time period, the public had become very interested in the man who had appeared to save them from being killed by the Reaper's advance guard. Commander Shepard was now a war hero and humanity had finally gotten their seat on the Council – exactly as predicted. Everything was going according to plan, it seemed. News outlets reported on the man day in and day out, desperate to learn more about their savior but Shepard, being heavily involved with the military, was not allowed to disclose anything that the reporters could publish in their tabloids and so interest in him quickly dried up to a muted respect.

It was only after six months had passed after my move back in when terrible news trickled towards the Citadel: the Normandy, Shepard's ship, had been attacked by an unknown aggressor and Shepard had been killed in action. That certainly had quite an effect on everyone's morale – everyone's except mine, I should mention. While people were moping in the streets, flabbergasted that their newest hero had been suddenly struck down out of the blue, I was chortling at them for being so distraught in the first place, fully knowing that in two years' time, Shepard would be back among the living and kicking ass with a vengeance. Despite my supposed ambivalence to the entire situation, I attended a small candlelight vigil at the Citadel Tower organized by people wishing to pay their respects in some small fashion, mostly because I felt I could and I wanted to pay my own tribute towards a man that I had gotten to know through a television screen in another lifetime. In a way, this was my own version of getting involved with the narrative and I was quite content to keep my presence to what barely amounted to a cameo.

Despite Shepard's death offering a bevy of distractions, I managed to continue my doctorate studies and quickly landed a fellowship at a satellite hospital belonging to the Adranus Corporation, who also managed Huerta – the best hospital on the station. I worked at the hospital for a full year on my fellowship, getting some invaluable hands-on experience with surgeries as an apprentice. It was good to give my mind something to work on – I hate being bored all the time. During that year, I managed to complete all my coursework and once I finished with my fellowship, I was invited to sit for my final exam: my Certificate of Additional Qualifications. It took me three weeks of page-to-page studying for me to be even remotely prepared, but it turned out that I handily passed the exam and was subsequently awarded my doctorate. Honestly, I can't even remember being more proud of myself when I was mailed my plaque. That would definitely look good on my wall – Old English Text, just like I wanted.

Since I had just received a degree from an accredited university in a subject that was in high demand, I landed a job in no time working part time for Huerta Hospital as part of its team of sports medicine doctors. I even got my own office with my name spelled out in serif font on the door. Dr. Sam McLeod, it read. God, that felt good to say it out loud.

The best thing about the arrangement was that, working part time, I was never completely swamped with so much work that I wanted to slit my wrists or gouge my eyeballs out. Like I said before, I was not doing this for the money, I was doing this so that I could get a sense that I was actually doing something with my life. Besides, repairing limbs on patients may be drastic in the sense that I was helping out other peoples' lives, but the manner of which probably would not be so drastic that it could cause any damage to the timeline currently all in place. It's not like my job involved me trying to dig out bullets from someone's abdomen or having to cut out a cancerous tumor – all of my work involved minimal intrusion, literally zero chance of death from malpractice, and a host of patients effusing their praise for a job well done. Yep, I was definitely in a good line of work.

The asari that I was currently operating on right now was my thirteenth patient in total since I had set up shop in Huerta. I was currently surrounded by a team of fellow doctors and assistants while my mentor observed my movements over my shoulder. The anesthesiologist kept on monitoring the sedatives that were being pumped through the IV line, making sure that the patient did not awake at an inappropriate time. So far the arthroscopy was going well and there had not been any complications whatsoever. I was pleased at the progress that I was making and the ease of which I was able to accomplish my repairs.

The funny thing was that these days, all major operations were no longer carried out by hand – twitchy indecisive fingers and all that – as the major medical companies had invented equipment to do the job in lieu of our organic touch. The processes were never automated, mind you, as although such automation was available for the machinery, the majority of patients opted not to use such conveniences as they generally felt better when a living body was overseeing the process. Thus, the machinery in question was always modified to be controlled by the doctor, who in this case happened to be me at the moment.

The Q-RON CCRD-12D Trauma and Extremities Suite machine that I was standing behind gave me full color displays of inside the asari's knee, with other information such as blood pressure, pulse rate, oxygen levels, and even alcohol content were shown near the bottom of the screen for me to peruse at my leisure. Lasers beamed near the site of the incisions at the epidermis and within the knee itself to map out how much room I could maneuver the equipment tubes. The machine was all controlled from the touch screen and it was calibrated to be extra sensitive to the slightest touch from me. In the hands of someone like me, I could perform a complex operation like reattaching a limb with no problem if I were so inclined. If a regular moron was at the controls, then I'm afraid there would be quite a lot more damage inflicted upon the patient going out than going in. Also, the hypothetical mess would be a ghastly sight.

A few minutes ago, I had successfully obtained a suitable piece from the asari's semitendinosus tendon to be used as a viable autograft, courtesy of the CCRD-whatever. While still inside her knee, I managed to use the machine's sophisticated clamps to braid the segments together to form a quadruple thickness strand. I then threaded the braid through the heads of the tibia and the femur, both of which I had to drill through beforehand at the start of the surgery. The ends of the braid I then fixated with screws, both of which fit into place nicely. The hamstrings would now serve as the replacement for the ACL.

Letting out a breath I had not realized that I had been holding, I straightened up. "I believe that it," I announced with a sense of finality. "She's all ready to go."

My mentor, a kindly Middle Eastern man by the name of Amir, took a look at my work through one of the cameras we had fitted into the surgical site and gave me a clap on the back for approval. "Nicely done, Sam," he complimented, giving me a nod of approval. "Sew her back up and we'll let the assistants take over."

"You got it."

I instructed the machine to cease its repair mode and, maneuvering my hands carefully, withdrew my arthroscopy tools from the asari's knee, but not after applying a dosage of medi-gel around the screw heads embedded in her knee. That would prevent any range of motion from affecting the hamstring's fixation to the bones – effectively decreasing the time for the knee to heal. The asari would have to wear a brace for one or two days, but considering how far medicine has come since then, that was literally no time at all. After sewing the two small incisions back up courtesy of the machine's onboard laser-guided systems, medi-gel was applied again to decrease the scarring. The small amounts of blood had been scourged away and the wound was wrapped up with gauze. Chalk this up as success number thirteen for me. It's a good thing that I'm not superstitious.

After the assistants had wheeled the patient out to recovery, I stayed behind to eject the instruments from the machine and put them in the sink to be disinfected and also to help tidy the room up for the next person to be operated on. I threw away my disposable gloves after I was finished and caught up to Amir just as he was boarding the elevator. Our offices were on the same floor so we were both headed in the same direction.

"Hey, Amir," I said. "I'm just going to finish up the rest of the paperwork regarding Ms. Nizeena's procedure before I head out for the day. You need me for anything else?"

"Nah," Amir shrugged. "Go home, Sam. You've earned it. The therapists will help Ms. Nizeena regain the full function of her leg in the meantime. I mean what I said back there – you did a damned good job."

"Thanks Amir," I grinned, beaming from the praise. Amir was just one of those guys that whom it was impossible not to like. He had a very fatherly quality to him and was surprisingly mellow in such a high-stress place like a hospital. He was a goldmine of information in his field and a superb conversationalist. All of his coworkers liked him.

Amir checked his omni-tool and quickly scanned over his calendar – speed-reading it. "I actually might not need you back in until the end of the week. Nothing is finalized yet but I'll try to give you ample warning. Medical diagnostics sent up a file of a turian who took a bad spill walking down some stairs and has apparently received a meniscal tear as a result. We might have to remove some of the meniscus - might not - we'll know more once the MRI results come in. I know that you've had some experience working with turians but I thought that I'd hand this over to Jacobson – she needs the experience as she's been handed only plantigrade subjects for about a year now and I wanted to give her a refresher. But, in the event she can't-,"

"I'll try and keep my schedule open, then," I assured as I checked my own calendar in case there were any discrepancies with my statement. "Meniscus repair on a plantigrade subject won't be a problem for me, but if Jacobson can handle it or wants to handle it, let me know as soon as possible, okay?"

"I won't leave you hanging, my boy," Amir gave one of his trademark paternal smiles. Never mind the fact that I was twenty-seven, I was still a boy in Amir's eyes. "I'll have everything finalized within two days. In that time, get some sleep, see a movie, do whatever you young folk do when you have free time."

"I'll be sure to get right on that, then," I chuckled as the lift doors open. I then bade Amir goodbye as we headed off in separate directions down the corridor towards our respective offices. The thin carpet of the hallway muted the sound of my shoe soles hitting the floor, dimly reminding me of the countless times I had gone to see the doctor myself.

My own office was plain and sparse – nothing too outlandish. Still the modern sensibilities were rather aesthetically pleasing to my eyes – namely the desk made completely out of translucent glass I felt was rather tasteful as were the couple potted plants placed specifically in opposite corners of the room. My rolling chair was plush and comfortable, and it made a hissing sound whenever I sunk my frame into it. A few bare wood cabinets hung over my head and the console in front of me was large enough that I could project all of my work so that it could be legible. Yet, there was a noticeable lack, even to me, that the office contained any personal touches. There were no picture frames of me or anyone of importance to me on my desk, no trinkets of any sort. Hell, the only thing that had not been originally part of the room was the plaque with a copy of my PhD hanging on the nearby wall. I kept telling myself that I needed to add a few touches here and there once in a while but it seemed that I would forget to do just that every time.

In the privacy of my office, I quickly disrobed out of my operating clothes and got back into my casual wear. I also habitually checked my omni-tool for alerts now that I was out of the electronic dead-zone of the operating room, and found that I had received a message. Someone had tried to call me earlier, apparently. I decided to check up on that later, after I had taken care of the paperwork.

Thankfully, the amount of work that I had to fill out was relatively straightforward. The packet mostly consisted of me signing off on the operation and detailing any odd outliers that might have occurred during the procedure. I checked off all the necessary boxes, proclaiming that the entire operation had gone as smoothly as possible and then sent them off for Amir to add his signature to the forms. Despite the ease of filling out the forms, there were so many of them that it took me an hour to complete, and by then it was the middle of the day and I was wide awake. One thing about the medical industry: you'd better like filling out paperwork.

Signing off on my console, I headed back out into the hallway towards the lift, taking a detour to the cafeteria so that I could pilfer a cup of coffee for myself. I also lifted a cigarette from my breast pocket in preparation. I had found that I had been smoking a lot less lately and it was not because the job dictated me to, but it was that it no longer seemed to be as necessary for me anymore. Either I had built up a tolerance to nicotine, or that I had now found some sort of mental fortitude against partaking in a smoke these days. I did not know if I should be glad or dismayed by any of those possibilities.

I downed my coffee before I had even exited the hospital, and once I was outside in the open air of the lush Presidium gardens, I checked my recent call list and arced my eyebrows in surprise. Unconsciously, I put my unlit cigarette back away. It had been so long since this person had contacted me – a couple months – and I had not been expecting them to reply after a few weeks of no contact. If they were in a place where I could keep up contact with them once again, then I figured I should jump on this opportunity immediately. Heart in my throat, I set my omni-tool to redial the number and I waited anxiously for the call to connect until I heard a soft click and a quick intake of breath in my ear via my implanted speaker.

" _Hello?_ " came the familiar voice.

I grinned widely as I took a seat on one of the park benches facing out towards the main lake of the Presidium, watching the blue surface sparkle. "Hello yourself, Nya. I do take it that it was you who tried to call me earlier?"

" _Sam!_ " Nya squeaked happily over the omni connection. I wished I could see her reaction right about now but we always talked using audio only as video imaging took up too much bandwidth on Nya's end. " _You called! Keelah, I was worrying if I had caught you at a bad time earlier_."

"Just slightly inconvenient timing, that's all. You got enough time to talk for a bit? Haven't heard your voice in months."

" _Oh yes_ ," Nya responded. " _The fleet just dropped in a system several hours ago near a functioning extranet buoy and we're not moving out for at least a few more hours. Still…the first buoy in two months, if I recall correctly._ "

"Well, I'm very glad that you called," I said as I adjusted my seating on the bench. "Had you not, I would have never known that you were in a suitable system for communication."

" _You can say that again. Two months is way too long to be out of contact, especially for someone like you._ " My heartbeat noticeably elevated at that but I kept my expression neutral despite the fact that Nya could not see it. Was I reading too far into this or just…? Nah, of course not. " _So what were you doing when I called the first time, if you don't mind my asking?_ "

"Not at all. You actually caught me in the middle of an operation. I was repairing an asari's knee that she had injured making some foolhardy play in a bioti-ball game. They tend to book operations early in the mornings because the sedatives work better when patients have empty stomachs – they don't mix well with food in the system and causes nausea otherwise. Also, the OR is designed so that no intruding signals can interfere with any of the sensitive equipment which is why I did not know that you had called until half an hour ago."

" _That's right!_ " Nya breathed. " _I keep forgetting that you're a doctor now. That must be exciting! How did the procedure go? Was it particularly difficult? Did you have to-?_ "

"Whoa! Slow down, Nya!" I laughed. "I'm afraid you're trumping me up to be some miracle worker when in fact I merely repair limbs for people who have damaged them in foolish ways."

" _So? Some people consider regaining the use of their limbs to be life-saving in a way_."

"I suppose, from a certain point of view," I agreed. "I don't really think about it like that, though. I just want to help people get back to one hundred percent functionality – it's my job."

" _Don't discount what you do, Sam_ ," Nya softly chided. " _You have an honorable goal – you choose to help when you could do nothing. You have a sense of helping others besides yourself, which I want to point out, is a trait that is inherent in all quarians. You sure that you weren't a quarian in another life?_ "

No, I wanted to say. I was actually a broken man living in the far past in another life, who had once been ready to kill himself at a moment's notice. Granted, I still was not fully mended, but I've come a long way since then – I haven't entertained the idea of suicide in over a year, believe it or not. Then again, Nya had no idea of how selfish I have been and still am, in some ways. Telling her that her preconceived image of me was false would do neither of us any good but her constant praise never failed to make me feel guilty every time. But why should I be guilty of being a virtuous person in her eyes?

Am I virtuous or do I just pretend to be?

"Probably not," I chortled instead after shaking my misgivings off. "And I'm not trying to downplay my job – actually I'm trying to avoid some of the stereotypes that come with being a doctor. You know, that doctors come across as arrogant, walk into the room with a swagger, overly confident, and flash fancy jewelry. That kind of stuff. Keeping myself grounded is what keeps me sane, I guess."

" _Huh. I've never really heard about those stereotypes all that much. Is that…is that really what people see doctors as?"_

"Thanks to human soap operas, they do," I said.

Nya gave a light chuckle. " _Don't worry, Sam. You're not an arrogant person. Even when we talk like this you don't seem arrogant."_ She paused. _"Please don't grow to be arrogant_ ," she added mirthfully.

"Nya, if I ever start acting like a prick to you, I give you full permission to fly over here to the Citadel just so that you could punch me in the face."

That's a bold gamble, Sam. Remember what happened with the last woman you acted rudely to?

" _I could never do that!_ " Nya exclaimed. I could vividly imagine her jumping backward in shock and the mental image made me grin. " _Why would you ever say such a thing?_ "

I held up my hands in surrender, the movement more for my benefit. "Hey, I'm just covering all my bases. Relax, I doubt that you'll have to resort to such an action."

" _I certainly hope not_ ," Nya said hotly. " _I can only handle dealing with one agonizing individual at a time_."

"Ah, I take it Vhen is still bothering you?" I could barely stifle the growl lurking in the back of my throat. The very notion that Vhen, the asshole, was still attempting to woo Nya in an insulting manner never failed to make my blood hot with rage. It was like casually discussing the fact that one's ex had found another body to shack up with – a mixture of jealousy and anger were all that could result from such a conversation. "He's infatuated with you, you know."

" _I am all too well aware, sadly. He's just way too boorish and rude for me to even consider him as a prospective…mate_." Nya's shudder was definitely audible through the call. I could not resist pumping my fist in glee. You had all of the chances in the galaxy, Vhen, and you blew them all. Serves you right, fucker. " _Besides, I still haven't forgiven him for kicking you off of the Xannos when I know that he was the one who attacked you first._ "

"I think that I can safely say that your instincts are well-founded," I said as casually as possible. "Speaking personally, I can't imagine what qualities Vhen may have that could compensate for his behavior in public. Just my opinion. He's about as useless as pedals on a wheelchair."

Nya laughed long and hard at that, relieving some of the tension that had gradually built up like the vines that strangulated tree branches.

" _You are absolutely right. He may be the favored son due to his lineage, but he's shown me nothing redeeming that puts him in an attractive light. No one has, except…_ " My breath froze in my lungs in horror but thankfully Nya changed course faster than I could fully process her words. " _Forget it. One of the reasons why I called is because I wanted to tell you something. Something very important to me._ "

"What?"

There was an audible intake of breath on the other end.

" _Well…I made pilot_."

I almost stood up from my seat, elated. "You…what? Really? Nya, that's fantastic! Congratulations!"

" _Th-Thank you, Sam_ ," Nya stuttered. Ha! Now I could reverse the praise unto her and elevate her ego up a bit. " _You know, you're the first person to actually congratulate me for that_."

Sighing, I rubbed my temples. Were Nya's people really still treating her like shit? Where was the justice from saving her life only to limit her to a life of scrutiny? "That's completely unacceptable," I blurted out. "Being a pilot is no small feat and…credit where it's due, you've done it! I may be able to fly a few ships for recreational use but no way could I do it as a _career_." I leaned forward as if that would somehow emphasize my words a bit more. How I wanted to say this to her face. "Seriously, Nya, good job. I know you wanted nothing more than that and it's wonderful that you were able to achieve your goal. I mean it, I'm very happy for you and you should be proud of yourself."

Was that a sniffle over the line or simply the crackle of static? It took several seconds before Nya could muster up an answer.

" _You continue to surprise me, Sam_ ," Nya said in a shaky voice. " _I don't think you know how…cathartic it is for you to say those things to me._ "

"I have a vague idea," I smirked. "You were just doing the same to me a few minutes ago. Besides, it's only natural for people to seek approval for their accomplishments. It's the least you deserve, I feel."

" _So I was_ ," Nya choked out a laugh. " _And…I can't deny that I want to be acknowledged, but it seems that you're the only person who can see past my flaw. Other people…my people…they just can't._ "

"What flaw? Being born into a position that you had no control over? Look, Nya, I respect your people and all but they can be seriously fucked up with regards to how they treat their citizens sometimes."

To her credit, Nya tittered despite the profanity. " _In all honesty, having you to relay your outside perspective really makes it all better for me. It lets me know that it's not just me that's the problem._ " Before I could interject to assuage Nya again, she sighed over the line, most likely giving a very sage shake of her head. " _Ah, never mind about my personal problems. I don't need you to get involved in them_."

Was it wrong of me to _want_ to get involved? It seriously pained me to know that the only alien that I've spent an extended amount of communication with was feeling bad all the time. I did not want for Nya to end up like me. But what was really my end goal here? Did I seriously want…was I actually considering…something more?

" _I almost forgot_ ," Nya continued. " _I have more good news. Shockingly_."

"By all means," I urged. "Let's hear it."

" _I had another reason why I brought up my pilot status. I'm now eligible to take part in procurement missions for the fleet and that means I will be able to leave the flotilla more often. And for my first supply run, I'm going to be visiting the Citadel in a few days_."

"No kidding?" I said in a hushed voice. "Now you'll be able to punch me sooner than I thought!"

" _You unbearable bosh'tet, no!_ " Nya sighed in amusement. " _We just went over this!_ "

"Can't help the ribbing. Sorry."

" _You certainly don't sound sorry_."

"That's just sarcasm," I chortled. "You'll get used to it. But damn, a few days, you said? As in we can finally meet face-to-face once again?"

" _That's exactly what I'm saying_." Nya could not keep the excitement out of her voice. " _The exact date is not yet finalized, but I'm guessing that I'll have a few days to spend on the Citadel. More than enough time for me to complete the bulk of my assignment. Maybe this time our meeting will not be interrupted with one of us thrown out of the station or winding up on a hospital bed._ "

"Hey, just give me a time and a place and I'll meet you there," I said, feeling a bit more rejuvenated. The feeling of knowing that you were going to see a close friend after a long period of separation never failed to make me ecstatic. Even though I had only talked with Nya in person for less than a day, I could not deny that I considered her to be a friend, taking in account the fact that we had been communicating in random intervals ever since we got back in touch. I'm sure she felt the same way, otherwise she would not be telling me any of this.

" _This is so great, I can't believe that-_ ," Nya broke off abruptly as I could hear muted voices in the background. When she did speak again, her words were a bit more rushed than normal. " _Hey Sam? I'm really sorry but I think I've used all my allotted minutes for extranet use and I need to give another crewmember their turn_."

"Don't worry about it," I said graciously. "If you're really confident about what you said, we're going to be talking again in just a short while anyway."

" _I can't wait_ ," Nya jittered. " _It's going to be so good to see you again, Sam_."

"Same to you, Nya. You take care of yourself out there."

" _Will do_ ," Nya said in a mock serious voice. " _Goodbye, Sam_."

"Goodbye, Nya," I responded just before the connection was cut with an unceremonious crackle.

The air felt emptier than ever once Nya's voice had vanished for good. It was almost like it had become thin – making it hard to breathe. Sitting down was not going to do me any good, so I got up from the bench and proceeded to walk at an agonizingly slow pace on the path that looped around the lake. I could contemplate better when I was in motion.

There was only one thing that I could think of and it was something that I knew I could not avoid. The signs were there, the intentions were checking all the boxes, yet unease still gripped me with its icy cold fingers. I had to confront this, though, because if I kept on putting it off, it would spring up on me without warning, giving me more opportunities to make a serious mistake.

So what if our, as in me and Nya's, dialogue was slightly pushing towards a more complex relationship? By that I mean a relationship on a stage differing from just a simple friendship. Was that even possible? Sure, we had talked several times over our omni-tools in the past, but those conversations were few and far between. Hell, I've only talked to her in person once, not counting our rather impromptu meeting in the alley on this station. However, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me. All I had to do was figure out how to handle it.

Assuming that I was interpreting Nya's tone and intent correctly, I had to know if this was something that I wanted. What was stopping me from taking that extra step? Was it because Nya was a quarian? Were quarian/human relationships even possible? For that matter, I don't even have a clue of what she looks like underneath that helmet of hers, for Chrissakes! From what I've witnessed, humans generally tended to gravitate towards their own species in terms of choosing a partner, yet it was becoming more commonplace for humans to have interracial relations among other species, so that was not as much of an oddity. Quarians, by contrast, tended to be very isolated in terms of their mate selection. From what I've read and seen, quarians going outside of their own for finding a mate was at a significantly lower percentage than humans, and that was not taking into account the problems that would undoubtedly manifest when quarians embark on a sexual relationship – when copulating with a human those problems would be compounded greatly.

Okay, I can humor myself. I can try and determine the difficulties arising from such a circumstance. God knows I've got nothing else to do. I had trudged past the statue of the krogan warrior that stood over the lake, barely paying the impassive face any heed as my gaze was glued firmly to the ground while I daydreamed. Analyze it: risk vs. reward.

* * *

So, first things first. Let's assume that Nya was pushing towards a rapport that involved more physical interactions. If I was misinterpreting these signs then that was negligible; I was going to have to go through this thought process sooner or later. Might as well be now. Honestly, I was split on what to do. There were benefits and issues with both choices and logically listing them out always helped lead me to my answer in the past. Empirical evidence suggested that the decisions I've made based on emotion have not entirely been to the betterment of my person, so that was that.

To start then, what was stopping me from taking the plunge and going all in with a relationship in the first place?

Obviously those enviro-suits that quarians wore showcased the biggest problem to overcome – their weak immune system. Removing those suits puts the wearer into significant danger due to their inability to fight against any foreign pathogens that their bodies are not used to, which knowing how many pathogens are in the air all the time, is a lot. Humans carry a lot of germs on their body – it can't be helped – so even if one were to properly sanitize themselves before doing the deed such as taking a shower, there would still be a significant number of germs present on the epidermis. However, quarians could mitigate the effects of getting sick by consuming large amounts of antibiotics and other supplements to temporarily give their immune system a jolt – overriding their body processes so that they would not get ill from even skin to skin contact. Studies carried out in sterile labs have confirmed, using focus groups, that following such guidelines helped to reduce the harmful effects, documenting results that quarians only got moderately sick at the worst if they took the appropriate drugs accordingly. I guess I can technically consider that hurdle cleared if there was already a fix in place.

Next issue, then: differing chiralities. Most lifeforms in the galaxy are made up of levorotary forms of amino acids while the turians and quarians are made up of the dextrorotary form, R-amino acids for short. This makes the possibility of a sexual relationship all the more complicated as the danger of ingesting anything with amino acids incompatible with one's body is a definite possibility during intercourse, most commonly consumed from traces of saliva while kissing. If a quarian were to ingest a certain amount of material made up of levorotary amino acids, their digestive system would not be able to pull nutrients out of the material, causing severe sickness such as cramps and other nasty digestive problems. The inverse would happen for humans as well but the reaction would be far more violent in quarians due to their reflexive nature to adapt to any foreign microbes as a way of adapting, so it seems like the quarians got the short end of the stick there.

Interestingly, there was a way around that. One of the major pharmaceutical companies had recently revealed a new gastrointestinal immunosuppressant treatment called Reversal, which is basically a pill that halts all digestive processes in the stomach for a period of up to twenty-four hours, allowing food to be consumed by hosts of a different amino acid chirality. Allegedly, Reversal was developed in mind for gourmands to partake in foreign cuisines that had previously been locked away, but interest from another industry quickly grew for the drug that had nothing to do with food. Truthfully, seeing the implications of what Reversal could do, it was pretty obvious of where the new interest was located. It didn't stop the drug company from being horrified at its new clientele, though.

That's right, the pornographic companies were the ones who had exhibited a fascination with what Reversal could bring to their industry of innovation, and they snatched up packets of the drug in droves once it hit the market. The porn industry had been looking for methods to limit how sick their actors got whenever they had to perform interracial scenes and Reversal was just that miracle drug that would effectively limit the amount of risk the production companies would have towards the actors. Now their clients could be subject to more human-on-turian French kissing and money shots, thanks to the fact that the actors were not digesting anything with incompatible amino-acids in them. Anything to satisfy all of the sexual kinks that purveyors of pornographic material were seeking.

The only bad thing about Reversal was that, since it effectively screwed up the digestive system for a limited time, and the fact that whatever you consumed would not really be digested at all, because Reversal does not make your stomach miraculously absorb nutrients from foreign amino acids, users have to purge all consumed contents before the twenty-four hour limit otherwise the Reversal would just wear off and the stomach cramps would just begin anew. So, unless you were fine with puking after every time you had sex, Reversal might not be the solution that you were looking for – damage to the esophagus from all of the upchucked stomach acids is quite painful. Granted, if you were careful and managed to consume under a certain amount of dextro/levo material from your partner during coitus, it would just pass through your system harmlessly. Additionally, allergy medications such as certain antihistamines or epinephrine could be applied to negate any side effects from opposite chiral consumption if Reversal was not your thing, not requiring the user to purge afterward, but that all depends on the user and their reactions to specific medications.

That being said, the weak immune system and the chirality factor were the main problems with pursuing any sort of physical relationship with a quarian, which make such an endeavor extremely more inconvenient than sleeping with another human, or a turian for that matter. There are other issues that are relatively minor in scale, such as any complications with skin contact – which should be nonexistent as the epidermal layer in quarians is very similar to humans – and having to adjust tried and true sexual positions to accommodate the limber frame of quarians and their digitigrade legs – which, speaking frankly, are only minor variations among the positions most popular with humans to the point where their might be no discernable difference.

A good summary would be that this little fantasy that I've entertained has resulted in an outcome that is, by all accounts, doable. A bit more prep work than average would be needed, most certainly, but doable nonetheless.

* * *

I snapped out of my elaborate reverie just as I was in the middle of traversing over a bridge extending to the other side of the Presidium. With fountains spewing twin columns of water just fifty yards away from me, the white noise was enough for me to lose the barest shred of concentration, causing my mental list to unravel at the seams. In a daze, I halted in my tracks now that my senses started to flood back into my consciousness. Blinking, I sagged against the nearby railing, my breathing now heavier as I groped in my jacket pocket for my cigarettes.

With fumbling fingers, I had a smoke out and lit, and I was puffing hard to make the shakes stop. Not again, I cursed. Not now. It was obvious where this had come from, why I had suddenly gone into a bad way. I had been thinking about _her_ again.

Forget it, I told myself. I can't go through this again! I've got to stop thinking about Nya like that. She's a friend, nothing more. It's just what I had first thought – I was overthinking the situation entirely. Even if it were true, and she did have feelings for me (which I was now seriously doubting), I knew that this was something I could not – no, should not – reciprocate. I needed to drop this whole matter from my head entirely and do my damnedest to never think about it anymore. I promised myself that I would not open myself up to anyone else after the only person that I truly loved died alone and helpless. That nearly destroyed me a long time ago. I could not put myself through losing someone I cared about once more.

 _Cared about_. For god's sake, Sam, you're getting too close. Stop it. Stop right now and just accept it.

" _Aww, that's sweet_ ," the cursed voice whispered out of the blue. " _I don't think anyone is as lucky to have a sibling that cares about them so much. Eh, Sam?_ "

Horrified, I rotated my head ninety degrees in seemingly slow motion. I did not know what I expected to find but I found myself glimpsing an image of a young woman dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, her freckled face unmarred by makeup caking her features, her brown hair tied up in a ponytail. Shaking, I blinked several times and rubbed my eyes hard, revealing an empty spot next to me that I had previously spotted the form of my long-dead sister. Swallowing, I took another drag of my cigarette. It was just a hallucination, I figured. A trick of the light, nothing more.

Turning straight to face the pool, I gripped the railing of the bridge with sweaty palms. "Stop it, Taylor," I whispered lowly. "Stop tormenting me."

" _I'm not trying to torment you_ ," her voice wisped from thin air. " _Honest."_

"You're doing a damned good job at it though."

I could imagine her making a pained face.

" _You once said many years ago that you always appreciated the advice I gave you. I just want to give you some help once more. Haven't you ever thought that you're going about this all wrong? Perhaps…you don't need to be so self-doubting when everything else is so obvious?_ "

I kept my eyes staring straight ahead, for I was afraid if I were to turn I would get a glimpse of Taylor one more time.

"As your brother," I said carefully, "you should know where I'm coming from. It's not that I'm self-doubting, it's that I'm being cautious. I…damn it…Taylor, you're _dead_ and I'm _alive_. How can I guarantee that something that horrible cannot happen to me again? I could not save you…and losing you nearly _killed_ me."

" _You nearly killed yourself, you know. You might have actually succeeded at one point, what with that collision into the light post and all_."

I felt myself getting hot under the collar. "You know I did that so that I could avoid feeling miserable all the time. You have no idea how long I had been suffering – that was just the straw that broke the camel's back for me."

" _That doesn't mean that I can't try to save you now. You have a second chance, so why not use it? It wasn't your fault – what happened to me._ "

"I never said that it was," I grimaced. "That's not the issue here."

" _Of course,_ " Taylor agreed. " _But you can't keep making up excuses forever. Listen to me, Sam. Do you really think that I would want you to follow this path of self-destruction?_ "

Flicking my cigarette into the lake down below, not giving a crap towards the littering laws, I finally backed away from the railing, thankful that there were no passerby around to see me engrossed in a conversation with myself.

"Probably not. But if our roles had been reversed, would you still want to care?"

Scowling, I awaited an answer but was met with silence instead. I swore underneath my breath while I waited for over a minute in the same spot, listening to nothing but the rushing of water from the fountains. So that was how it was going to be, Taylor? You couldn't even give me the courtesy of acknowledging that question, huh? Fine, have it your way. If you can't lead me towards a solution to my nonexistent problem, then don't bother annoying me at all. Christ, when did my sister ever get to be so overbearing?

Not to say that my current view on the subject was a solution that I endorsed. On the contrary, I hated it, but there was nothing that I felt I could do to make things better. I don't want to be put back into a suicidal state of mind again. If something happened, if I latched myself onto another person only to have such a connection be broken, I would be back to square one. That must not be allowed to happen to me again, whatever the cost!

Great, now all that was on my mind was my abysmally fragile psyche – a topic that I would rather not dwell on if I could help it. Fortunately, there was a storefront down the way and I knew I needed a topping off of my liquor stores. At this point, any sort of distraction was welcome.

After all, I was going to need a drink to drown whatever misgivings that I had accumulated today.

* * *

At least my mind could be made up easily on what sort of booze I had in mind, and I had relayed my order to the clerk at the convenience store within five minutes, inputting a ship-to-home order to be delivered in an hour's time. Easy as pie. Now that I had that finished, I was free to peruse the rest of the store, my eyes flitting from the different types of foodstuffs available for consumption. None of it looked particularly appetizing, so I headed over to the back of the store where all of the electronics were. I always had an interest in looking at future tech, so that would keep me occupied for a good while.

Unfortunately the selection of usable appliances was atrocious as there were nothing but last-generation omni-tools and some third-rate stereo systems that were all on hand for the store to offer. Snorting in disgust, I turned my attention to one of the holographic wall panels to the left of the electronics display, hoping that I could find something to pique my interest. Fortunately, I was in luck. Sort of.

The panel was some sort of specialized browser that utilized the extranet to purchase items wirelessly through a user's account. The sort of commodities that were being offered here were movies, to be specific. I let out a dry chuckle. So this was what the future of Redbox had come to. No one watched movies on physical formats anymore (DVDs and Blu-Rays had all died out in the last century) and digital downloads were the only means of watching film on any sort of media. I could very well order films from the comfort of my own home but having a panel here was meant to induce spontaneous purchases from customers, thus earning the store an additional bit of income. Shopper psychology at work – it's effective for a reason.

However, the selection of films that this particular kiosk, if you could call it that, offered a selection that was like looking through a menu at a Scottish restaurant: not much in it, and nothing that I wanted.

I was about to turn my heel and go back to my apartment where I could access a much better selection, but one of the store clerks noticed me staring at the panel and walked over, a helpful smile on his face. No doubt he was going to ask me if I had found everything that I wanted today. Customer service could be so predictable…not to mention downright annoying.

"Have you found everything you needed today, sir?" was his cheery introduction. Now, what did I tell you?

"Just browsing," came my even response. "Didn't find anything I wanted, though. Figured I might go home and see if there was anything on television for me to watch."

"You sure?" the clerk asked before I could protest. I could see on his nametag that he was called Alec. "We have a bunch of great titles that many people like. Are you a fan of thrilling action?"

"No, really," I tried to say. "It's perfectly fine-,"

"-Because a lot of people really like this one," the clerk said as he brought up a movie's information on the kiosk panel. "It's called _Dissimilar_."

"Sounds like the title of some sappy teen romance flick," I drawled, momentarily forgetting that I was headed back home.

"Far from it. It's about an asari landing on a primitive planet and the protagonist, a turian who had been living on that planet his entire life, meets the asari and they fall in love, sharing many adventures together. The main conflict comes when some of the turian townspeople, who mistrust the asari for religious reasons, fight to expel the new arrivals from the planet for good. The second film is not as good as the first but the third one introduces some political intrigue, which is interesting if you like that sort of stuff."

I scrunched up my face in disgust. That actually sounded pretty awful. Awful as in generic and plain boring. Could the film industry really not come up with any original plot ideas anymore? It was just ripoff after ripoff here – and the consumers were usually too lazy to even care. What a tragedy this had become.

"Not really my cup of tea," I said as I scratched my head, looking to find an opening so that I could disengage. Alec, on the other hand, was hell-bent on making sure that I found something worth watching from his store's paltry collection, oblivious to the fact that I was already a lost cause.

"No problem," he said. "If you want something with a bit more action, you might want to try the _Organic Machine_ series. Basically it follows a soldier who gets killed in action but gets revived as a cyborg thanks to an evil corporation. But the soldier disobeys his programming and rebels against the corporation, fighting to bring it down while trying to find the woman he loves, who presumes that he is still dead."

"I actually heard about that series. Didn't the critics malign it for having a rather rushed pace, underdeveloped characters, and a needlessly dark third act?"

Alec gave a sheepish smile, like I had found out some dirty secret. "I'll admit, the films do have some problems but that doesn't mean that they aren't enjoyable all the same."

"I guess I'll have to pass on that one too."

"That's fine. But have you heard about the film _Period of Atrocity?_ "

This guy was relentless. "No, but let me guess…angsty, cliché-ridden, romance flick set in a military backdrop? Two lovers break up over a simple misunderstanding and the entirety of the film is spent teasing the audience whether or not they get back together before ending the feud with a drawn out, unnecessary sex scene, is that about right?"

Alec bumped his eyebrows up. "Why…that's basically the brunt of it. I'm guessing you _have_ heard of it, then?"

"Nah, I can just infer from context clues." I replied cryptically. "Still not interested. People may eat up angst because it provides good filler but I prefer something with a bit more substance."

"Then you could try _Unfixable_ , the story about a turian whose husband was killed in action, but she doesn't believe that he's dead so she goes on a quest trying to find him, battling agents in her own government and many hallucinations when in reality, he was actually dead all along."

Seriously, what was the urge in pushing all of these crappy romance films on me?

"You just gave away the twist, then!" I said incredulously. "I have no reason to see it now. Thank you for your time, but really, I think that I'm good on the movie front."

"Oh," Alec looked disappointed. The man actually thought he was going to make a sale, the naïve fool. "In that case, I hope you have a pleasant day and come back soon."

"Not as soon as you'd like," I muttered underneath my breath as I stomped out towards the exit. "Nowhere near that soon."

Adjusting my jacket, I huffed before I took a few steps and melted into the crowd of people bustling along. Here, I could be invisible in plain sight. Just me and my traitorous conscience as company. What fun. I believe that was all I could take regarding interacting with people for the day – despite it not even being the afternoon yet. That was okay, because I had all the time in the world to change into some more comfortable clothes, fix myself a strong drink, and do nothing but play video games and watch movies until I passed out. What can I say? I'm a man of simple pleasures.

In any case, I had a whole crate of booze that was going to be delivered to my doorstep within the hour. An evening of drinking awaited me, so with renewed vigor, I increased my speed to a fast walk down the polished metal boulevards, ignoring the neon signs of the shops around me and shouldering my way past the undulating throng of aliens.

Status update: the doctor is currently out.

* * *

 **A/N: Huh, I thought this was only going to be a 5,000 word chapter but I guess I got a little carried away with some of the extra details. Oh well. In any case, I prefer writing long chapters anyway because I want every submission to be substantial to the audience - for each chapter to drive the plot along instead of being useless filler - so that it's significant to them. I'd think that people would prefer a large chapter than a tiny 2,000 word chapter anyway.**

 **In any case, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12: String Theory

_The hallway was dim, the only light streaming in from the kitchen at the far end. The carpet padded my footsteps, making it easy to traverse without being heard. The object in my hand was hard and felt comfortable in my fist. I could feel the grooves of the pistol's grip make a checkered imprint into my palm, for I was grabbing it so tightly. The gun was not mine, but my father's. He always left it underneath his bed, available for anyone who knew where it was located. The cold metal of the barrel brushed my thigh and I felt goosebumps prickle my skin. Lumps rose in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I had never done anything like this before, but I sure as hell was going to make it my mission to succeed. I had to – for her. Bad deeds should not go unpunished._

 _Rage filled my vision, clouding it red. I knew that what I was about to do was erratic – insane – but I had no choice. I had technically not done anything yet but I knew that tonight would be a pivotal moment in my definition as a man, now and forever. I was perfectly content at destroying my life if it meant that I could ruin someone else's as well. They deserved it, and if I would burn in hell for what I was going to do, then it would have been completely worth it. An eye for an eye. Damned if it leaves the whole world blind. The dead could not care less about the living, but my actions would reverberate long after I had left. I could only hope that I would be looked on favorably in some capacity._

 _I peered around the corner and bit back a curse as I stilled my movements. The tiny kitchen was occupied, even at this late hour. Both an older man and woman – my parents - were sitting numbly at the lit table, their heads steeped in sorrow. The weak part of me wanted to drop whatever I was holding and run over to them, crying in shame. I knew what they were going through and joining them would invite forgiveness. I wanted to share their pain, but I couldn't right now. I needed to be strong. I wanted to show them that justice comes to those that deserved it, even when the law decreed otherwise._

 _But this presented a problem for me. All I needed was to reach the front door and I would be home free, but the issue was that I had to go through the kitchen to make it there. The back door was directly next to the table my parents were sitting at, so that escape option was out. If I could just sneak out of the house without being noticed, then nothing would be able to stop me._

 _Holding in my breath, like the barest exhale would give away my position, I crept around the corner and hoped that the shadows would conceal my position for a short while. The two adults at the table did not seem to notice me yet, so that was a bit of luck. I just needed to make it around the counter and I would be obscured by the far walls of the kitchen. I even crouched down to make my profile less visible. So far, so good. I was almost at the door!_

 _And then my foot stepped on a loose board, causing a tiny creak to come from the wood. The sound may have been quiet, but it was like a gunshot to me. Damn it!_

 _In that instant, the bearded man at the table looked for the source of the noise and found me hugging the wall. Our eyes locked for one painful second and his gaze quickly dropped to spot the gun – his gun - that I was clutching in a white fist. His jaw dropped and I was considering bolting for the door, but my legs seemed to be filled with lead. I froze in place, my body completely locking up._

 _Before I could react, my father swiftly rose from his chair, kicking it aside as he raced toward me. I moved too late and I quickly found his large arms wrapping around my torso. He was not hurting me in any way, just trying to restrain me. His meaty hand grasped at my own, trying to tear the pistol that I was holding out of my grip. My weak teenage fist could not hold on and the now warm metal of the pistol was easily ripped away from me and tossed onto the couch. I screamed in defeat and bucked violently against the arms of my restrainer, but they held tight._

 _The woman had stood up at this time and was shrieking for me to calm down. I could not hear her over my own shouts and rabid grunts as I attempted to do anything to get out of the arms of my father. I had been so close! Why couldn't they just let me go?_

" _No, son!" my father bellowed. "Sam, stop it! Sam! Don't do this!"_

" _Let go of me!" I half-sobbed, half-howled. "Let me go! I need to…I have to…"_

 _One of my father's hands clamped down on my forehead, holding me close to his large body. His chest was heaving from the effort of holding me back, and also because he was crying as well. I did not realize it at the time, but my old man was sobbing his eyes out as he realized what I had been ready to do – what I had almost done._

" _Son…please," he begged. "It's over. It's all over. You can't do anything more. Just…stop. For your own sake."_

 _My feet kicked out uselessly along the ground. I was so disoriented I had no idea if I was trying to reach the door or the gun that had been removed from my presence. My movements slowed a bit, and I finally realized that I was bawling with tears running down my face like waterfalls._

" _Noooo!" I cried as I nearly broke from my father's hold with a burst of fresh energy. He almost lost me there but caught my torso at the last second. He shoved me down to the carpet and pinned me, bodily restraining my arms behind my back. This was not an easy task, for I was tall for my age, but my dad still had a few inches on me. Despite my higher-than-average strength, I could not budge in my place. "I need to kill him!" I shouted hoarsely. "He needs to pay for what he's done! He can't get away…he took Taylor from me!"_

" _You can't do anything about it now, son! He's going to jail today for the rest of his life and it will all be over. You don't need to kill him – it would make no difference."_

" _She wouldn't want this!" my mother added as she wept. "We can't lose you too, Sam. She loved you. We love you. And that's why we can't let you destroy yourself for her. You're all we have now."_

" _Come back now, Sam," my father whispered into my ear. I could already feel my limbs starting to tire. My head felt light and dizzy. I cried softly – for my failure, and for the additional pain I put my parents through. "Please, Sam…it's all done. It's done…it's done…"_

 _Dissolving into blind weeping, I finally broke. My struggling ceased and I sagged in my father's bear hug. His firm hold turned gentle and I realized that he was now giving me a hug. Not for reassurance, I figured out, but to hold on to the last child he had left. I was the only one he had now…and I selfishly did what I had almost done to them. My god…what had I been thinking?_

 _My mother also came up to hold me, and I numbly pressed myself into her loving arms. Her thin body trembled violently and I held her against me as all of my rage and hatred slowly escaped me. Silence overtaking us except for our crying, we sank to the earth as a trio, tired and relieved. The morning soon broke, and together we looked back on better times._

 _All over. All over…all…over…over…_

* * *

Over…

Stirring minutely, I grunted as my consciousness clicked from the dreamlike void into the realm of reality. Sensation slowly came back to my limbs, my head felt heavy and lethargic. There was something cold on my cheek – wet and liquid. It felt annoying and I had the urge to wipe it away but for some reason I could not muster the strength to do so.

And then the pain came.

The first jolt of my headache was so bad that it caused my body to spasm slightly. I groaned and limply flopped off of my bed, causing me to cough. Another stab resulted in my holding my head in pain, uttering a foul curse as I did so. With fumbling fingers, I groped at the side of my night desk for my trusty bottle of naproxen. I downed two of the pills dry with a shake of my head. Goddamned hangovers. You'd think I would have learned by now not to drink an entire pitcher of sangria. I would have liked to have saved some of it for later! Sam McLeod, ladies and gentlemen: greedy, drunk slob.

The pills would not kick in for at least half an hour or so, leaving me to limply flop around like a fish out of water as my dehydrated body suffered from the effects of overconsumption. I was not feeling nauseous, thankfully, but I was incapacitated enough to not be able to stand without leaning heavily to the side. I was in a very bad way.

Crawling over to the shower, I quickly disrobed and submitted myself to a piping hot spray. Ahh, sweet bliss. My head seemed to clear almost immediately and my pores opened up to let the heavenly water in. I stood in there for fifteen minutes without changing my orientation before I had enough. I then threw on some loose clothing, grabbed a bottle of water that was just conveniently lying on the counter and walked into the kitchen as I took hearty swigs of the refreshing liquid. Already I was feeling significantly better. However, the mess that awaited me in the next room was enough to stop me in my tracks with a painful lurch, followed by that sinking feeling that normally occurs when you realized that you had gone and made a horrible mistake.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I mumbled to myself as I appraised the pigsty. "You goddamn stupid son of a…"

I had left the beer bottles from the six pack that I had consumed last night scattered all over the kitchen, but that was not the worst of the mess. Apparently I had gotten the bright idea to overturn my couch sometime during the night, leaving the cushions strewn everywhere. All of the kitchen cupboards had been opened, the contents still where I had left them previously, however. About half a dozen pizza boxes lay aimlessly around the foyer, the greasy cardboard leaving marks on the polished stone floor. A thought occurring to me, I hurried over to the fridge and gave a sour sigh of frustration after I opened the vacuum sealed doors.

" _Again?!_ " I groaned in exasperation, giving an exaggerated arch of my back to emphasize just how fed up I was with my drunken antics.

I was now beginning to consider that my drunk self did not make the wisest of decisions all the time, probably because every single compartment of the fridge was once again filled to the brim with slices of pizza. What the hell was it with me and throwing pizzas into the fridge while intoxicated? Was this just one of the tics that came with my sloshed alter ego? And why was it always fucking _Hawaiian pizza?!_

A series of knocks from the door interrupted my tirade of cursing out my shenanigans. I made a face and consciously hiked my sweatpants up. What now? Was this the neighbors coming to slap me with yet another notice that I had been creating a public disturbance?

"I didn't leave the music on this time, Zairn!" I shouted at the door as I moved to open it. "If you're coming here to serve me up yet another fine, you salarian bastard, I swear to Jesus that I'm-,"

The door slid open, revealing not the tall and lanky frame of my salarian neighbor, but the clean-shaven face of Josh instead.

"And a good morning to you too," he smirked as he scooted his way inside, past my outstretched arm. He appraised the messy state of my living room and gave an exaggerated frown. "Looked like you had a wild night, Sam the Man. Was there some reason that you didn't invite me?"

Flabbergasted, I looked back down the hallway and towards Josh before I closed the door. "I didn't buzz you up," I said stupidly. "Who let you in?"

Josh jerked a thumb back the way he came. "Some chick with fake blond hair held the door open for me. Sorry if this was kind of sudden, dude."

"Leslie," I muttered as I recognized the description of one of the tenants from downstairs. "All that dye must have warped her mind. What good is the buzzer if no one's going to use it?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, Sam. If you want I can go back outside and you can buzz me in from there."

"Forget it," I dismissed with a wave. "That's not going to solve anything."

"Can't say that I didn't offer. Who the hell is Zairn?"

"What?" I stumbled, too flummoxed to focus on more than one conversation train at once. "Oh, he's just my salarian neighbor. Can be a bit nosy sometimes, but that's not important. What the hell are you even doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Local synagogue was having a gambling night – whole committee set up tables of blackjack, poker, and spinners. Thought I'd drop on by after the festivities were finished. Appears that you had just as much of a party as I did."

I laughed as I only now realized Josh' mistake. "No. I didn't have a party. This…" I indicated the strewn pizza boxes, "is just the result of me performing a slew of drunk purchases. And…you were at a synagogue? I didn't know you were Jewish."

"I'm not," Josh said proudly. "But this chick named Leah that I had been hitting on for weeks was. She invited me over – and I'm thinking if I do this for her, I get in her pants, man – so I was actually not looking forward to it in the beginning, to be honest. But, my god can those Jews throw a party! They served donuts as snacks - but they had a weird name for them - these amazing potato pancakes, bagels and lox, and a bunch of other crazy kosher shit."

"I didn't realize that Jewish people would have such an event like gambling in one of their synagogues. Could have sworn they looked down on such sinful practices. Or are those Baptists that I'm thinking of?"

"Reformed Jews, man," Josh's grin was a mile wide. "They don't really take all of their religious aspects as seriously as most Jews. I'd fucking convert knowing that they have so much fun, but then I'd have to sing in their congregation in that weird language of theirs. I'm not all that keen on learning a new dialect in exchange for parties every weekend."

"It's called Hebrew," I corrected.

"What is?"

"The language. And I'm pretty sure their prayer books have the transliterations of the words inside. You don't really need to learn a new language at all."

Josh looked surprised, then hopeful. "I'm honestly starting to weigh my options at this point."

I chuckled despite myself. Just to be polite, I grabbed a slice of pizza from the fridge, slapped it onto a paper plate, and slid it over to Josh, who chomped at it hungrily.

"You're the only person I've known to actively consider converting religions just to get invited to more supposedly 'wild' parties," I said in amusement. "But don't leave me hanging on the night's ending. Did you succeed with Leia or whatever her name was?"

"Leah," Josh corrected around a mouthful of food. "And…yes. By god, I don't know what it is about Jewish chicks but they are fucking _insane_ in bed. She was so glad to see that I was circumcised because what she did next made everything-,"

I made a face and held up a hand. "Forget it, Josh," I sighed. "A bit too much information for my liking. I think I can glean the ending based on your current mood, though."

" _Pfft_ ," Josh snorted as he took to ambling around my kitchen. "No one appreciates a good story these days."

"And what exactly _was_ the story?" I lifted my hands, bemused. "There was no _point_ to it. You took some girl home, had sex with her, and that was the end of that. You gave no hint of a plot twist at any time – like if the girl was actually a man, or if she had a boyfriend and you had to make some daring escape. Sorry to spoil it for you, but it wasn't that good of a story."

"Well, when you put it like that, it does sound rather shitty," Josh agreed begrudgingly as he rummaged through my cupboards without my permission – a pet peeve of mine but since Josh was a friend I was more inclined to let this incident slide. "Eh, it sounded a lot better in my head, to be honest. Where do you keep your coffee?"

"The coffee? I'm out. Forgot to go get more yesterday."

Josh gave me a look like I had just committed some sort of atrocity. "That won't do at all," he shook his head theatrically before he began pushing me towards my room, despite my protests. "No more shillyshallying for you, mister! Put some actual clothes on. I can't live without coffee in the morning so I'm going to have to drag you away from this barbaric, caffeine-less, cell you call an apartment and out to get some real food. I'm fucking starving."

"Was the pizza not enough?" I retorted in amusement, but found myself shoved unceremoniously back into my room, even though I was not really putting up much of a fight. There was still some cause for my hesitation as I visualized the mess that was awaiting me in the other room. I would still have to clean the place when I got back but I could afford to spend a couple hours away. Then again, I could always issue the cleaning drones to take care of the heavy lifting for me but I always preferred doing the work myself. It felt more gratifying to me that way.

"Come on, get to it!" Josh chided and clapped me on as I deliberately slowed my dressing pace in my room in order to antagonize him some more. His impatience meant that his begging for me to hurry up and change quickly translated into pained groans as he waited on me, causing a grin to come to my face. A shirt, some pants, and casual footwear comprised the bulk of my attire, topped off by strapping my Phalanx into my shoulder holster. I then threw on my jacket and opened the door to rejoin Josh, who looked positively elated to see that I was all ready to depart.

Knowing him, he was hamming it all up until he got a satisfying breakfast, the swine.

* * *

Josh dipped his knife and fork as he looked at my plate enviously. "Can I have some of your bacon?"

I frowned as I glanced down at the three strips that I had yet to consume. The bacon looked particularly juicy, not too crisp and not too limp. Perfectly cooked with all of its flavor intact. I jealously guarded it with my arms in a mock display of selfishness. "You could have ordered some yourself. Do you really need to keep on taking my food?"

" _Pleeeeaase?_ Please please please please-,"

"If it will shut you up, here!" I rolled my eyes as I broke a small strip into two pieces and tossed the smaller piece to Josh. It landed on his plate perfectly and he devoured it in seconds. Honestly, it was like I had a house cat across from me.

The more time I spent with Josh, the better I could get to know what made him tick. As far as how I had ever gotten to be associated with him in the first place, I haven't the foggiest, for he seemed to be way more outlandish than my more restrained personality. He bragged about sleeping with women like it was a competition, frequently took advantage of me to get small items like food or beer for free. Despite his faults, there was a lot of intelligence that I could surmise that was hiding behind this lavish façade. Yet, Josh delegated himself to hang out in clubs and accumulate one genital disease after another. What a waste of potential.

Yet, Josh did have the foresight to push me to get something to eat when I had not even known that I was ravenous. Fortunately, the restaurant that Josh picked out was a diner that could have been straight out of the 1950s with a very modern twist. Its aesthetics were so shamelessly uprooted from one of those kitschy diners that were very popular in strip malls that I was not aware if the styling had unconsciously shifted back for this location or that it was meant as a parody. Vinyl seats, checkered floors, aqua walls, it had everything. Even the damn turian cook working at full pace near the back was wearing a corny chef's cap. Either way, it brought a small shred of comfort to me with this slight touch of the familiar.

The place catered to pretty much all of the standard fare regarding Citadel inhabitants, but it had a very good selection for the humans that decided to select this place in order to get their comestibles. Their offering of breakfast foods was what sold me – my stomach started rumbling at the prospect of food that didn't come out of a cardboard box this time around. Nothing like a good old-fashioned breakfast to mitigate the last vestiges of what had been a crippling hangover.

The meal that I had ordered was plain, but I had not seen such likes of wonderful food in a long time, so I was nearly driven to tears from the first bite. Fried eggs (overhard), hash browns (extra crispy), sourdough toast with butter, the aforementioned bacon, and even three light and fluffy pancakes to boot. Everything was excellent – including the drinks. I had a nice tall glass of orange juice while both Josh and I sipped mugs of piping hot coffee, fresh from the machine. Everything was delicious and I made a mental note to frequent this place in the future now that I knew this was here. I was not going to give Josh the satisfaction that he introduced me to this diner out loud – he would be smug for weeks.

Josh, despite indicating that he was starving to death, merely ordered a small plate of crepes and a couple donuts. Not really the healthiest of meals but it's definitely considered a no-no to criticize another guy's eating habits, much in the same vein that it's considered impolite to touch another guy's drink for any reason. What can I say? We're sensitive in our own different ways.

"Credit for your thoughts," Josh said unexpectedly as he polished off one of his crepes.

I was struck at the adaptation of the popular phrase, but quickly brushed it off with a self-depreciating laugh. "You might have to ask for your money back. Knowing you, you probably need every credit."

"You insinuating that I'm poor?" the words were harsh but the tone was light.

Taking another timed sip of my coffee, I bumped my eyebrows up knowingly. "Someone has to be frugal for you since you don't have any income."

"O ye of little faith," Josh pointed out proudly. "That was _before_ – when I was unemployed. Things have changed, my friend. For the better, I should add."

This was news to me. Now I was getting the suspicion that Josh didn't ask me to go to breakfast with him just for the company. "Oh? You never told me that you got a job."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "I didn't? Could have sworn that I had mentioned it to you…"

In all fairness, he very well could have, but an update on a friend's employment status was not something that I would reckon be forgotten so easily. If he had told me while I had been intoxicated during one of our club tours, then I can see how such information would have went in one ear and out the other. He was probably making a show on this just to prove that he had a modicum of modesty, but it was not working all that well.

"No, you didn't," I said anyway. "Josh, when the hell did you get a job?"

"About a couple months ago."

"A couple months! So how come I'm just hearing of this right now?!"

"Like I said," Josh defended almost absentmindedly, "I thought I told you. NVGyg brought me on as a data scientist when I applied for them."

"NVGyg," I repeated. It sounded familiar to me. "The professional software company?"

"The very same. Got me doing demographics studies and trend analyses regarding sales of their products varying from specific races to individual planets. Not the most exciting work but it makes the clock tick by faster."

"I'll be damned," I smiled. "The galaxy must have stopped turning because Josh Kinney has finally become employed. Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Self-righteous prick," Josh smirked as he flipped me the bird.

"Like you're so much better."

"Well, _you're_ the doctor so it's only natural that you should be snobby."

I made a laugh/sigh combination as I reclined in the booth. "First of all: fuck you. Second: you know as well as I do that my general change in attitude has not been for the worse ever since I got my license to practice. Third-,"

"Just messing with you, dude!" Josh chortled as he leaned over to clap my arm. "You got to lighten up one of these days."

Lighten up. Now there's a thought. Pigs will have learned to fly by then.

"It's interesting," Josh continued, "because NVGyg is salarian owned, they're not one to hire out employees that are human."

"You think you made that much of an impression in the interview?"

"Probably," Josh shrugged. "But I bet a lot of it has to do with the current political climate. Look at everything now, ever since Shepard saved the Citadel and the Council, humans have been on the fast-track economically. We finally have our own seat on the Council and there are a lot of aliens that praise us for our involvement in the conflict."

I nodded sagely. "Just as well that our fleet made the timely intervention when it did. I have been noticing a less frosty atmosphere when dealing with non-humans lately."

"Because _we're_ the hot commodity right now. We've shown everyone that humans are not just about themselves. We have given them proof that we will readily defend the civilized galaxy and the Council could not turn a blind eye to our actions. Thus, all of the aliens want to now show their appreciation by hiring more humans into their companies and just giving them better treatment overall."

"All having to do with demographics, is what you're saying?"

"Exactly what I'm saying. Economically, humans are in a boom. Salarians, asari, even turians want to hire us now that we've proved to be on equal standing. Since we're officially no longer regarded as inferior or less mature in any way, the Council position has sort of given everyone the green light to open positions up to us in earnest. I'm sure that if we consult the extranet, it will show us that human employment rates have skyrocketed. Great for me since I was caught in the wake, bad for the poor sap who would have normally gotten this job."

"And now you're one step closer towards living the Ameri-…err, the _human_ dream," I corrected myself, tongue-tied over my adherence to outdated sayings. "You have a job, a place to live, all that is left for you is a wife and you'll have all the boxes ticked."

"A wife," Josh laughed without mirth. "You'd probably be a bundle of sunshine way before I could find someone willing to settle down with me. Hell, I'd bet that _you_ would find someone who's wife material quicker than I could. Speaking of which, how's that quarian girlfriend of yours doing?"

I had taken a sip of my coffee at this point and I almost inhaled a scalding mouthful down my gullet before I managed to spit it out into my cup safely, not causing as big of a mess as I had initially feared.

"God damn…" I mumbled before I cleared my throat. "Say what now?"

"You know," Josh indicated mildly. "That quarian you mentioned a few weeks back. How's she doing?"

"I…don't recall telling you about her. And she's not my girlfriend, by the way."

"And how the tables have turned," Josh smirked as he crossed his arms. "Well, if it helps your memory somewhat, you were drunk at the time you first mentioned it to me. It was at the back end of one of our bar visits and you had drunk so many shots of that cinnamon flavored schnapps that I could have just prodded you and you would have fallen out of your seat. You were describing how you met this one quarian beforehand and that you liked her a lot after talking with her. I just assumed that you two were dating 'cause you seemed so smitten."

I felt my face redden, partially because there was truth in Josh's words and he seemed almost gleeful to expose part of my private musings.

"Again," I emphasized after taking a measured breath. " _Not_ dating. _Not_ my girlfriend."

"Hey, I'm totally not judging you," Josh defended as he burst out in a laugh. "Trust me, I'm the last person to do such a thing. Hell, you know me. I'd stick it in anything that had a nice rack and a pair of legs. Speaking of which…"

Josh's gaze had fluttered to the side, finally removing me from his crosshairs. I turned in my seat to see what Josh was looking at and spotted a relatively attractive asari gliding into the restaurant, her clothing rather conservative but that didn't stop Josh's face from turning slightly blank.

Sighing, I waved a hand in front of his face. "Stop fantasizing about naked women, Josh."

"Sorry. Force of habit."

Leaning forward, I kept my face lined so that no playfulness would escape me. "I'm just going to clarify this to you right now. The quarian – Nya is her name – is just a friend. A _good_ friend, mind you, but we're not focusing on a relationship right now…if at all."

"So why not?" Josh was genuinely curious. "What exactly would be the problem in going for it?"

"Says the king of relationships, undoubtedly."

"'Do as I say, not as I do,'" came the answering quote. "But really, why not?"

My blood began to pound through my body again at being put on the spot so unexpectedly. I toyed with a stray bit of hash browns as I contemplated Josh's words. How could I answer that? Because I was afraid of connecting myself emotionally with another living being? Or maybe I could just scrounge up that horseshit about forming a connection could potentially disrupt the timeline and all that – just to assuage my tormented mind. That excuse might have worked in the beginning but as time went on, I could definitely see that it meant less and less to me. Still, I needed an excuse for Josh at this time. It definitely would not do if I rambled about timelines and continuums in front of him – drawing unnecessary attention was not what I wanted, especially right now.

"She's stuck on board her fleet," I did my best to keep my face neutral as I blurted out the half-lie. "I'm not really one for long-distance relationships."

Josh seemed to be satisfied by that as he gave a nod and another sip from his coffee cup. "That's understandable, dude. Shitty luck, though. You definitely seemed to be interested in this woman more than anyone I've ever seen you with."

Jesus, how much do I blather when I'm drunk?! Clearly alcohol has been doing an effective job of betraying me time and again that I was now considering of placing myself under prohibition. Lucky that Josh bought this lie today but were there going to be any situations in the future in which I would be unable to bluff my way out of?

Excuses and excuses. That's all I'm good for drafting, apparently. It's all I do to lamely get myself out of messes like these. I just lack the backbone to go the extra mile and get involved with…well, _anything_ in a significant manner. Damn it, just what _is_ it that I'm so afraid of?! Rejection? No, that's normal and I've survived such splits in the past – albeit only just. Is it the fear of hurting others? Getting warmer now, but that never really stopped me in the past. In a universe dominated by war and conflict, hurt was only a natural part of the cycle that infiltrated every iota of our…

Conflict…of course. Everyone…most people at least…in this very restaurant would all be doomed when the war would roll right onto their doorstep in a couple years' time. In a place like this…why should I expend the effort to care about someone when, for all I know, they could become a casualty of the inevitable hell hurtling towards our galaxy? Like _she_ was always meant to be. If Nya, despite her premature salvation, was doomed to die in the war anyway and I, for whatever reason, opened myself up to her in spite of that…that would be the end for me. Goodbye, sanity.

Could it be that this – my being here - was never about what my presence would do to the main story, but that it was what the story would do to _me_ and my fragile soul?

I still had yet to conjure up a suitable reply for Josh and, obviously, he got a little distracted when the next customer walked in, judging by his noticeable turn of his head.

"Huh," he murmured. "Don't really see someone like him all that much here."

Intrigued and seeking something to drive me out of my thoughts, I spun around once more so that I could see. In a breach of Josh's character, it had not been a pretty girl that he had been ogling, but rather a portly, middle-aged man dressed in a lumpy and faded green overcoat. The restaurant we were in now was not high class, mind you, but the man here was dressed so much like a bum that it kind of made the place feel way more expensive than it had any right to be.

The man was unshaven with a graying beard, his face was sallow and drooping, hair long and greasy, and his head continuously spun around as he gazed at every inch of the establishment. Interestingly, he had quite a few pounds on his torso which was odd, considering the fact that all dietary supplements on the Citadel involved non-invasive chemicals that kept everyone at appropriate weight levels in order to adjust to the gravity of the station. The man kept shifting his weight from foot to foot which made me think that he might not have been quite all there in the head.

"What do we have going on here, Ton of Fun?" Josh simpered to himself.

I could have shushed him, but I didn't. Even the other patrons were starting to take notice of the large man standing silently in the middle of the restaurant, apparently doing nothing. I was somewhat fascinated with this man, for his eyes seemed to be bugging out of his head like this was the first time he was laying his eyes on a restaurant filled with aliens. There were a few erratic tics the man had, like the corner of his mouth would twitch every now and then but he still refused to take one step further. The more time went on, the more uneasy I felt. Don't know why – just a feeling.

Unsurprisingly, the hostess – another asari – took notice of the man after all of the waiting customers had been seated and walked her way over to where he was standing.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked politely. "How many in your party today?"

The man mumbled something that I could not catch and apparently the hostess could not either.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said apologetically. "I didn't quite catch that."

Unexpectedly and without warning, the man drew an oversized pistol from his ragged jacket and pointed it straight at the hostess. Time stopped for me as I recognized the weapon outline and panic rooted me to my seat, overriding my initial instinct to flee.

"I said get down on the _fucking ground!_ " the man roared as he shoved the pistol into the asari's breastbone. She complied after a few milliseconds of hesitation, bodily throwing herself onto the tile floor with a grunt.

Panicked screams rose from the patrons as they realized there was a gunman in their midst. Josh and I hunkered down in our booths and I could see several people doing the same thing. I folded my legs close to my chest, just to minimize the amount of my body the man had a line of sight to. That caused my own pistol to be pressed uncomfortably into my ribs, but I did not dare take it out. Drawing another weapon would just paint me as the most immediate target in the crazy man's eyes, and there was no guarantee that I would be able to put him down before he blew me away. Trying to defuse the situation was not my specialty, so I resolved to wait it out until the authorities arrived. I was not injured, I was not being shot at, so I had little incentive to get myself involved in _this_ debacle.

One customer mumbled out, "Son of a bitch, not again," in addition to other confused and disoriented rumblings that reverberated around the store.

"Who the fuck robs a restaurant?" I whispered. "Honestly!"

"First I've ever heard of it," Josh agreed, his face white with fear.

It was yet more evident that the gunman was not well. He had not chosen a stereotypical place to rob like a bank or a big box mart, but a restaurant where its only valuable commodity was consumables – nothing valuable in here. Also, compared to those types of establishments, restaurants carried considerably less cash in their drawers, but that was only a 2015 comparison and thus inappropriate for the situation. Nowadays, physical money had been completely done away with and everyone made their purchases via credit chits. They were easier to carry than a thick wad, allowed access to their funds, and could be deactivated at any time for security reasons. That was why credit fraud was rarer than it was back in my time – because people were more protective with their well-earned funds. Unless this man was planning to have us put all of our chits into a bag and hope that he could splurge before he was arrested or before we canceled our chits entirely, he really was suffering from delusions of grandeur.

The man slowly rotated in place, making sure that every aspect of the store was covered and that no one was going to bull-rush him out of the blue. "All right," he grimaced, spittle coming out of his mouth. "Not one of you freaks move. I mean it, I'll blow your heads off if you try anything stupid."

The man had yet to do any actual robbing, from what I could see. He was just standing around like an idiot, like he was planning on someone else heisting the joint while he did the duty of crowd control. If he kept this up, the authorities were going to show up and blast him full of holes without him ever seeing a single credit, theoretically speaking.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to!" the robber bellowed to the air, his yellow jowls jostling with every syllable. "You think I can't get the joke, do you? Well, _I'm_ the one pulling the strings now, you animals. Me! Not you."

"This guy is a fucking loon," Josh said in astonishment.

Instantly, the guy wheeled about, his eyes ablaze. "Who said that?" he spoke deathly quiet before he launched into a rage. "Who fucking said that?! Answer me, you shitheads! I'll blast your guts out of your bodies until one of you admits that you said those words!"

The man stomped over in the direction of my booth and I looked at Josh incredulously. His was a frozen mask of horror, completely dumbfounded at what he just did. The reverberations were getting louder; the robber was seconds away from us now. I could hear him load a thermal clip into the gun and, before I even knew what was happening, I shot out of the booth and stood up directly to face the man, my hands empty at my sides.

You did it again, Sam. Why, oh why do you never learn?

There was no time to back out now. My common sense had led me to this point and now I had to reap the consequences once more. The unattractive man stood mere feet across from me, close enough that I could smell his rank breath – onions, apparently. The barrel of the gun was pointed straight at my heart, but I was not feeling as afraid as I felt I should. I maneuvered my body so that I blocked Josh from view, making sure that my deep breaths came into my lungs as slowly as possible, so as not to agitate the robber further.

"So you're the piece of shit that decided to mouth off?" the man grinned wildly, his tongue darting out from his mouth.

I held up my hand to show that I meant him no harm, making sure that my own pistol was tucked into my jacket and well out of sight. "No, I'm not," I answered honestly and softly, my voice surprisingly not shaking as badly as I would have thought. "Sir…can I just have you…why don't you put the gun down? There's no need for violence here."

Based on the robber's confused reaction, I don't think that he was expecting anyone to confront him with a civil tone. He might have been looking for a reason to completely unleash his inner maniac and I was not exactly giving him that chance.

"I…I can't do that," he stammered. "I don't want to hurt anyone…but I can't stop now."

"But why hold all these people hostage?" I gestured around the café after I took a large swallow. "Why them? They're of no use to you."

"Oh, but they _are_ ," the man replied with a glint in his eye. "They're exactly what I need. They're the collateral to show them that I'm being serious."

"Show who? What is the purpose of all this?"

Now the man took a few careful steps toward me, but his gun shifted slightly to the side so that it was just pointing away from me. I could tell that this was clearly intentional and it gave me hope, for this meant that this man really did have no intention of hurting me. He needed to indulge someone to let him in onto his plan. No point in eliminating any willing parties if they're only going to cooperate.

"I'm not supposed to _be_ here, man," he whispered helplessly. "You're…you're like me, but you can't see it."

I resisted the urge to scratch my head. "See what? I don't understand. How am I like you?"

"You know!" the man was irritated by my obliviousness. "Human! You're human and yet you are calm with all of these…freaks around you."

Blinking, I dared not go above a whisper. "You mean…the aliens? Wh-What is so important about them?"

"You've accepted them! How?! This…all of this is wrong! I…I…I don't understand. What has happened?"

The man seemed to be losing it. He was making no sense. This alarmed me because the more unstable a gunman became, the more likely they were to do something foolish. The situation needed to be defused quickly.

"Sir!" I said quickly. "Please put the gun down. For your own safety, put it down!"

"No!" the man roared. "I need it! I need it to keep myself safe from these…things! Where am I?! This is not where I'm supposed to be!" He shuddered as if going through the initial spasms of a seizure, but quickly calmed. "No matter. Like I said before, _I'm_ the puppetmaster now. The strings cannot hold me anymore. They can't take me away like they did before."

A thought occurred to me and I could scarcely believe it true. "What…what year do you think this is, sir?" I tested with bated breath.

"The…year?" the man said slowly, as if in a daze. "It…is…"

2185, I thought. He's going to say 2185.

"…2013, isn't it?" he finished before he took a gasp, as if the sentence robbed him of his breath.

Oh god. What did he just say?

My mind was now running rapidly as I tried to piece my line of questions together. "You…too? H-How did you get here? What was the last thing you remember? When did you-,"

I wanted to ask him everything, but my fast and confronting pace seemed to only torment the man and he backed away fearfully, his eyes scrunched shut. The pounding of my heart thudded in my ears and I was going to softly try to calm him down again until I saw a hint of motion coming from the kitchen divider. A gray muzzle slowly peeked out from where the order window was and I suddenly knew what was going to happen, to my complete terror.

"NO!" I screamed right before the blast of the shotgun exploded in my ears.

The robber did not see the attack coming at all. The impact spun him completely around, sending blood and flesh chunks splattering onto the glass doors. The pistol flew out of the man's hand and he slumped to the ground near a pair of trash cans, cradling his stomach. The shooter stepped out from the kitchen – the turian cook, his cheesy hat off – and kept the barrel of the shotgun aimed at the downed human. I tried to walk over to see what became of the human but the turian threw out an arm, blocking me.

" _Don't_ ," the turian hissed. "Don't go near him. He's dangerous."

He was right, of course, but that did not stop me from trying to get a look at what happened to the man. I followed the widening pool of blood to where the human currently lay and found a grisly sight. The shotgun blast had not killed him outright, it seemed. It had been aimed just shy of the man's center of mass, which had completely ripped him open when it passed by. As a result, the man's torso was a mess; his hands were grasping at a bunch of red, slippery coils that seemed to be pushing out of a large gash in his abdomen. It then occurred to me in a daze that those were the man's guts. He had been disemboweled.

Many of the patrons used the opportunity to flee the scene out the back door, but that did not stop many of them from vomiting uncontrollably when they saw the state of their aggressor. That included Josh, and I could see trails of puke streaming from between his fingers as he staggered outside. In seconds, only the cook and I were left in the restaurant with the mortally wounded man dying at our feet. Still the turian refused to let me approach him, even though the human was disarmed. He was taking no chances and I had to admire just how cautious and level-headed he was.

The human was a pathetic sight. Blood stained his jacket and undershirt, flecking all over his face. He squirmed in pain while his intestines unraveled in his hands. He was crying – delirious from the agony he was receiving. His tears blinded him and he began to spit up blood, interrupting his screams.

Feeling sick to my stomach myself, I shouted at him to stop moving. "You'll make the tear worse if you keep jerking like that!"

"Leave him," the cook admonished. "He's finished."

"Fuck you!" I hissed in fury. "He's still alive!"

There was more to my anger than watching someone perish before my eyes. This was the only man that may have possibly gone through the exact sort of situation that I had and now the amount of time he had left in this galaxy was limited to seconds. What a shitty bunch of luck. A part of me wished that he would survive this, for I would have liked to have known whether the man really was from 2013, or if he was just a crazy nutcase in the middle of some sort of hallucination – drug induced or what not. The other part of me wanted him to suffer just for pointing a gun at me. I get testy when people threaten me – no matter what their intentions.

"I…I…think…" the man mumbled, incredibly as his hands tried shoving his organs back into his body. The pain must have been incredible but his nerves must have been completely overloaded at this point. "I think I…I can…put it back…together…"

"No! Don't!" I yelled at him. "You'll only make it worse! Just keep pressure on it and you'll limit the damage!"

"Am…am…I going to…die?" the man sobbed as blood and mucus dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He gave a wet cough and spit up more blood, this time so red it looked black, like tar. Something inside him had begun to hemorrhage. There was definitely nothing that could be done for him, not even medi-gel.

"Jesus Christ, man," I could not tear my eyes away. "Stop…just stop!"

But the man paid no heed to me and there was nothing that I could do, not even with the cook holding me back. He kept trying to slip every coil of his small intestine back into his abdomen, but they kept on slipping out from the tear in his flesh. The human moaned helplessly and soon passed out. He had lost too much blood. The cook and I still continued to watch the man but he most certainly expired mere minutes after he lost consciousness. Numb, I could only stare at the bloodied corpse as it was all my eyes were drawn to. It was not the first dead body I've seen in my life, but it was the first person I've seen die right in front of me. I never even knew the man's name.

C-Sec burst onto the scene half a minute later, and that was when I took it as my cue to finally leave. I shouldered my way past the paramedics, refusing their offers for aid. I flashed them my doctor's credentials after they would not leave me alone, making them go help someone else for a change. I knew that I was not befallen to the symptoms of shock, but in no way was I all right. I passed by Josh, who was reclining on a nearby bench with his legs elevated, an oxygen mask around his face while a medic tended to him. He was staring off into space and thus could not meet my gaze, but I nodded in his direction anyway. Hell of a way to start the morning. At least I didn't lose my breakfast.

I could not remember the walk home and I floated back into my apartment in a daze. The cleaning drones had rendered the place spotless; the pizza boxes were in the trash, the kitchen tided up, and the couch was put all back together. Automatically, I went to my liquor cabinet to take out a bottle of bourbon and poured myself a generous glass before downing half of it in a single gulp. My throat was now on fire, but I drained the glass anyway and immediately proceeded to refill it. That odd swimming sensation was back as the alcohol numbed me – it made everything seem trivial and I basked in the feeling. I still held enough willpower to cease drinking before I got horribly sick, but I was still quite drunk by the time I tired of the bourbon. My head was spinning and I felt faint – but not tired.

I stripped off my clothes and threw them to the side as if they had been covered in blood. Unclothed, I stumbled over to the shower and brought a steaming hot spray down upon me. Second shower in two hours – good thing I'm rich otherwise I would be pissed at what I accrued for the water bill. I shuddered as the hot water streamed over my skin and I slowly slid down to the floor, my back against the onyx wall while I sat in my delirious spiral. I curled up my knees to my chest and finally started to cry. The shower stifled my sobs as my tears mixed with the water, for which I was thankful, because I had never wanted to hear the sounds of my own sorrow ever again.

Alone in the bathroom, I laid on my side and continued to cry, only ceasing when the tears dried up. Drunk and miserable, I lay in my position for almost an hour, imagining the world opening up to admit me for all of the mistakes that I had made – the hell that I had fallen into.

But from where I was, I could find no solace.

* * *

The cops came to visit me later that day after I had sobered up and I did my best to give them a statement. As I suspected, the human robber had died on the scene – no charges were being set against the cook – and my attempt at talking the man down had already been noted. They praised me for my effort, but I only half-heartedly shrugged at their comments. I did nothing in reality. A man had died – that was the end result. What use were praises now?

What C-Sec had determined and had made known to me was that the guy was all hopped up on drugs when he was shot. Pills, speed, red sand, it didn't matter. There was some sort of compound in his blood that caused him to act this way and they would not know the composition until the lab came back with the results. So, the man might not have been from a similar past after all. Even if he was, he couldn't hack it here and that was what differentiated me from him. He chose the easy way out – I continued to stake my claim and hope for greener pastures. The pessimistic part of my brain figured that he made the right choice. The optimistic part could not muster an answer.

Once the officers had left, I confined myself to my room, embarking on what would be a sleepless night for me. I stayed awake, ignoring calls from friends and work, curious to know my status. Evidentially they were aware of what happened, but it was not something that I wanted to talk about at all. Why is it that whenever bad things happen, people always ask for the victims to immediately relive them? Didn't they have any sympathy? What the fuck was their _problem?_

Afterward, I decided that I had had enough. It was time to take a break from all of this ridiculousness. I was tired – not physically, but tired from experiencing a world of shit over and over again. I needed an escape, a way to isolate myself. The only way to do that, however, was to remove myself from where all the action was occurring once again, just like I did when the Citadel was going to be attacked.

In short, I needed a vacation.

Even though it was the middle of the (relative) night, I packed a small bag full of clothes and toiletries, gave notice to the hospital that I was taking time off and that I would not be returning in a week, booked a flight off the Citadel and left my apartment. It was only when I was on board the shuttle heading towards the spaceport did I realize that I had failed to call Nya and align our schedules for the near future in case she was stopping by. I then shrugged that off – her fleet had most likely gone outside the range of the extranet buoy by now and if she wanted to call me and had the means to do so, she could always do it herself. Admittedly, I felt remorseful, but I was still trying to get the image of a man pushing his guts back into his body out of my head. I think that Nya could sympathize, given my current situation.

On the bright side, at least I didn't get injured at all from this outing. Silver linings and all that, eh?

* * *

 **A/N: Sam may be getting the short end of the stick a lot, but there might just be a hint of warmth on the horizon.**

 **...Or not.**

 **Also, last week _The Quantum Error_ reached 100 followers, which has caused this author to be seriously astonished and touched simultaneously. I didn't know how popular this story was going to be, but I certainly could not have predicted that it would be _this_ popular, and we're only halfway done! Crazy, eh? Wow, you guys are awesome. Thanks for sticking with me this far and I hope that you'll be following Sam's exploits until the end.**


	13. Chapter 13: Tourist Trap

I was relieved to find that this was one area of Earth that had yet to be ruined by the futuristic drive to technologically innovate every single conceivable aspect to mankind – coating everything in that damned veneer of shiny, sleek pale-colored metal that the locals on the Citadel loved so much. This place – on this island – was so low tech in comparison that I could have sworn that I had jumped back in time about a hundred and fifty years. The average human would probably liken this to living off the grid, with none of the technological comforts to be found. In that case, call me Farm Boy.

Regardless, I was enjoying myself reclining on one of Hawaii's pristine beaches – always very popular with the tourists back when I was around. Nowadays the kids and their families went on interplanetary trips for their vacations as such deviations within the same atmosphere were considered boring these days, which meant good news for me. The crowds were not large enough to drain on my overall relaxation based on this new trend in tourism – and hardly any aliens showed up on Earth just to relax on a beach. As a result, things were very calm and silent on the island of Oahu. Me, I was just very happy to have some peace and quiet for once. No one was looking to beat me up, or shoot me in the stomach this time around. Here, I could finally calm down and recharge.

After the incident in the restaurant yesterday, I had been in such a hurry to leave the Citadel – fraught with worry and still slightly gripped with shock – that I had neglected to perform many of the checks people do when they're about to go on vacation - purchasing a ticket in this case. Reaching the docks, I was thankful to discover that there were still seats for my intended destination on board the shuttle and even though I purchased a ticket just in time, by accident I had upgraded myself to first class in my haste (it was only going to be a thirty minute flight, which was the exasperating part). That just meant that more money was flying out of my wallet – yay. The upgraded seat entitled me to free booze though, so I was properly loaded by the time we had landed on Earth – the city of Honolulu, to be exact.

I had chosen Hawaii for a few reasons. One, I like anywhere that's tropical. Cold does not agree with me and since I've never had a penchant for skiing, the mountains were out of the question. Besides, I can never resist bodyboarding in an environment with such balmy temperatures. Two, the culture on Hawaii was practically indistinguishable from the American customs that I remembered, so there was a smaller chance of me getting any food poisoning or getting scammed by the locals. Three, I had previously been to Hawaii on a family trip about an eon ago and I had remembered that I enjoyed it a bunch.

Obviously things were going to be a hell of a lot more different, given the 170 years that had transpired since then, but I was determined to enjoy my limited amount of time here. I knew that I was not going to stay on this island for weeks on end, I had a job to perform and obligations to fulfill for other people. To stay here for more than four days would be fruitless. This would be a critical time to recover my mental health but I would eventually start to miss the Citadel, despite my desire to stay away from the place for a bit. No, half a week here would be just fine.

Once I had stumbled off the shuttle, I hailed a cab because I knew that I was way too intoxicated to drive, and instructed the human at the wheel to head for a hotel on the north end of Oahu (avoiding the touristy areas), hoping that it was still around. Luckily, it was and I managed to rent a room with a view of the ocean and access to all the amenities that comes from a tenant lounging in the executive suite.

Okay, so I didn't really need to rent the executive suite, but I had the credits to make such a thing possible and if, in some shallow way, it would make me feel better, then I'm not going to question my dubious decisions further. In any case, the drunker I get, the more inclined I am to spend exorbitant sums of money. Thank god I sobered up before I discovered the casinos.

I had spent the rest of the day dozing away my jet lag. The effects of yet another hangover had been beginning to creep up on me so I made sure to properly hydrate myself before I turned in at four in the afternoon. Strangely, I woke up on a normal schedule, perfectly healthy and ready to start the day. The shower was nice and worked wonderfully, the breakfast buffet was, by all accounts, just an excuse for me to get fat within two days. Fresh fruit, eggs, bacon, bagels, danishes, juice, coffee, even frigging honey-imbued beeswax was all for the taking. Needless to say, I always felt bloated after each meal.

A trip onto the treadmill never failed to hike down my caloric intake for the day and before ten in the morning I would be out on the beach, either swimming in the surf or lounging in the shade with a cocktail in hand, courtesy of the small beach shack. It was always a fruity drink that I got – because I could. Forget what anyone else says, life cannot get any better than that.

Despite whatever misconceptions I might have had in the beginning, Hawaii had not really changed much from a futuristic makeover. That is, at least the parts that I was a witness to. There were still actual cars that drove along the ground, on wheels and not hover generators. Traditional gasoline engines had been phased out by this point due to their penchant for polluting the atmosphere with carcinogens (…but of course!) and now everything ran on eezo generators which gave out zero deadly emissions. Guess the government was finally forced to confront the global warming issue after the ozonosphere nearly collapsed about a hundred years back. Good to see that they had made tremendous progress.

In addition to what was familiar, most of Hawaii had still not been bulldozed to make way for condominiums, suburban neighborhoods, or anything else that would be an eyesore to its natural beauty. Aside from the city of Honolulu, the island still kept its very traditional tone as well as its lush forests and beautiful beaches. There were a few additional shopping malls scattered here and there, sure, but there were also a lot of places that looked particularly rustic and authentic, adding to my nostalgia for the time I left long ago.

It was kind of odd, knowing that I had been to this place previously a long time ago. I could still remember running up and down the beach with my sister, laughing as the surf surged up to our ankles while our parents watched from afar, probably in the same spot that I was lounging right now. The prospect that I would never get back to my own time had been obvious to me for a while now and I had accepted the fact that I was going to die in this "future," yet that did not stop me from drawing forth memories from the deep recesses of my mind.

Back in my chair, I yawned and reached for my datapad, opening up a book I had been in the middle of reading. Try reading on the beach sometime, it is one of the most relaxing things imaginable. The book was a thriller about a detective following clues to a ten-year old case in order to soothe his tortured mind and to prove to all of the naysayers in his division that his hunch for the killer at large was correct at any cost. It was okay, as most police procedural novels go, and there were a good amount of twists inserted into the narrative to keep things interesting. Nothing terrible original, but it was not complete trash. Scratching at my beard, I adjusted myself in my seat and reclined so that I was in the most comfortable position possible. Dressed in just a shirt and swimming trunks with the cool ocean breeze mingling with the humid air, I felt utterly content.

I read for about an hour, an hour of me having the clearest head in months. I made a note to take a vacation every year if I was going to loosen up this much from just one outing. I just hoped that Hawaii would still be standing above the water after the war came around. That would be really sad if it did not.

While I relaxed, I did take note of what the fashion styles of beachwear had evolved to in this day and age, never having a chance to witness such things in person. My style of swimwear was just a pair of baggy trunks with a beer brand labeled all over them, nothing special or outright scandalous. However, for some reason several of the males, human and alien, were wearing these super-tight shorts that revealed a lot more of their anatomy than I was expecting. For crying out loud, they were practically _thongs_ yet no one was batting an eye, even the young children that plagued the beach with their incessant noises did not seem to care.

The worst offender, however, were the women. I'm not a prude by any means, but considering how much skin the bathing suits on the ladies showed, I felt like a pervert based on how often my jaw was agape. While the men were practically wearing thongs, the women were _literally_ wearing thongs. There was no other word for it. There would be the occasional woman wearing a sports bra and shorts – which was more in line with what I was expecting, but most of the ladies were practically naked. Hell, there were even several women that had chosen to forgo bras entirely, moving about on the beach topless. This was not a nude beach, mind you, so either this place was populated entirely by Europeans, or that all humans were less prudish concerning how much skin was deemed acceptable to show.

After I was finished reading my book, while desperately trying to keep my eyes on the pages and not from the multitude of breasts bouncing past my vision, I cast my datapad away, along with my sunglasses. I then stripped off my shirt and jogged straight into the surf, sighing in comfort as the warm water lapped over me. A few girls in bikinis (human and also asari, to my amusement) noticeably ogled me as I stood waist-high in the sea, either at the tattoos that adorned my arms and chest or just the fact that I was in reasonably good shape for someone my age – not too thin and not too fat. Despite their looks and giggles, I ignored them for I had no desire to chit-chat right now. I swam out a few yards and turned on my back, the salt water assisting my floating. Taking a few lazy backstrokes, I warmed up my muscles for a few minutes before I started to breaststroke my way along the beach, only stopping once I had estimated that I had traveled the length of an Olympic swimming pool. I repeated this until my fingers pruned and my arms felt like logs – signaling that it was time to get out.

The longing stares of the young ladies followed me as I trudged across the hot sand back to my chair. I could not resist the allure and playfully gave a couple of them winks of acknowledgement. The ones that I did this to furiously blushed but did nothing more. I had no idea if they wanted me to physically move over to where they were and initiate a conversation or if they were trying to muster up the courage themselves. Despite my twenty-seven years of living, women still confused the hell out of me sometimes. Are they still pulling this same shit that I had to deal with in 2015? I would rather they cease with all of these subtle signals about this _will-he-won't-he_ crap and just be more up front and direct. My personal preference was that women shove their embarrassment down and do more than give a flirty look once in a while, that way there would be less confusion for both parties. Hell, it's not like I had to deal with this all the time. If I remembered correctly, _Nya_ walked straight up to me and initiated a conversation right off the bat the first time we met, no quizzical glances required.

Oh. I'm thinking about her again. Eh, it was just a quick mental flashback and nothing to get overly concerned about. And yet, I still find myself wondering sometimes…what if?

I got over my mental paralysis very quickly and to the disappointment of the opposite gender, I collected my things and walked off the beach rather indifferently, moving past a quartet of college-aged men currently involved in a serious game of volleyball (almost getting beaned in the head from the ball in the process). Ambling into the lobby, a thought occurred to me that it was only the middle of the day and that I had hours before I would need to go to bed again, so why not see more of the island? It sounded like a good idea and I walked over to the concierge desk in response.

"Good afternoon, sir," the tanned man at the desk greeted with a sincere smile. The tag on his chest told me his name was Aaron. "How can I help you today?"

"Yes, I…uh," I hung my towel around my neck and raised my sunglasses off my eyes. "I would like a cab to pick me up from here in a half hour. Do you guys do that from this desk?"

"Certainly, Mr. McLeod." He must have my guest information already on file thanks to hidden sensors embedded in the lobby. "And where would you like to go today?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "I guess I would like to take a scenic hike somewhere. Perhaps in the mountains or the jungle? You have any recommendations as to where someone like me can go?"

Aaron snapped his fingers as a knowing smile came to his lips. "As a matter of fact, I do. Laie Falls is a place that has everything from waterfalls to jungle hikes, mountainous trails, and ocean views. Something for the whole family, really."

"Huh," I said dumbly, impressed that the concierge could answer my question so quickly off the bat and I raised my arms in acceptance. "You've sold me, I guess. Not the 'whole family' thing but everything else. It sounds fantastic, actually."

" _Sounds fantastic!_ " something loud next to my ear loudly squawked.

"Jesus!" I jumped to the side about a foot and looked upward to find a bright red macaw with a multicolored tail bob his head up and down mischievously.

" _Sounds fantastic!_ " the macaw crowed. " _Sounds fantastic! Sounds fantastic!_ "

Aaron looked up at the parrot and chuckled. "Oh, don't pay Maximus no mind. He like to toy with unsuspecting guests from time to time."

I rubbed at my ear while the bird shrieked gleefully. "He's called Maximus?"

"One of our staff was a fan of gladiator movies," Aaron said almost apologetically. "Maximus heard the name being said one day and that was the end of that. Wouldn't let anyone call him anything else."

" _Maximus! Maximus!_ " the bird continued to squawk. " _Sounds fantastic!_ "

"Uh-huh," I said as I scratched my head. "He seems to pick up words rather quickly. I didn't think macaws were that smart."

"Traditional ones aren't," Aaron admitted. "Maximus was genetically engineered. All macaws are ever since they were made extinct about eighty years ago."

That gave me a start. I was not aware of this. "I must have missed the memo on that one."

" _Missed the memo! Missed the memo!_ "

"I got it!" I said at the bird angrily. I then turned back to Aaron. "So, if Maximus can pick up on words uttered only once, what's to stop someone from saying a few swear words for him to project all around the lobby."

"Don't get me started," Aaron made a pained face. "It happens more often than you think, believe it or not. Many families come here and we generally don't want to disturb them with the foul language that the bird might spout from time to time, so we have to be extra vigilant at what Maximus picks up on throughout the day." He began typing on his console to send the details of my itinerary to my omni-tool. "Once, we had this young boy come through with his family and he said to Maximus the words, 'penis-breath' over and over again. It took us days to entice Maximus never to say those words in front of people."

" _Penis breath!_ " the macaw croaked out triumphantly. " _Penis breath! Penis breath!_ "

Next to me, Aaron's face turned white while I tried to cover my mouth from laughing so hard.

"Oh dear god," Aaron muttered. "Not again!"

* * *

Leaving Aaron to muffle the parrot, I showered and dressed, coming down to find that the hailed cab had arrived on time. An hour and an uneventful ride along the Kamehameha Highway later (yes, it's really called that), I was deposited at the entrance of the park with nothing but a thermos of water strapped to my side just in case I got thirsty. The sky was bright and blue, the air swollen and humid, and the earthy smell of vegetation wafting to my nostrils. Perfect weather for a nice walk.

Initially I had been worried that I did not bring any suitable gear for hiking, such as boots, pants, or bear spray. However, I needn't have worried for the entire trail was paved with black tarmac, profusely radiating heat out in the sun. Presumably that was to ensure that anyone who had difficulty walking would be able to enjoy the trail as it would not feature any excess rises or dips that would normally stall anyone with bad knees or hips. I bet that even a wheelchair-bound person could make it down this path no problem.

The bushes and trees dripped with condensation, fat beads of water dangling precariously upon shiny, green leaves. My skin was coated with perspiration almost immediately even though I was not tired, it was just that the air was so muggy that all of the water in the air converged on anything solid – me being one of those solid things. Beginning to sweat through my shirt, I started chugging away at the bottle of water strapped to my belt. I was careful to conserve sips, not knowing exactly how long this hike was going to take.

An occasional brightly colored bird would flutter past the trail, trilling a lovely song in its wake. The forest rustled from the wind, sunlight streamed down from the canopy that covered the trail, and I had an extra hitch in my step knowing that I was walking in a tropical paradise. Thank the maker that this part of Earth was still unspoiled – to ruin such beauty would be simply criminal. The Citadel parks are nice and all but you cannot beat naturally formed ecosystems under a dome of atmosphere. Just something to consider for the future.

The majority of my walk was rather uneventful, to my surprise. I easily coasted past a few out-of-shape tourists, a few others taking pictures of every conceivable detail on the trail, and a couple groups of young men and women taking up the entire damned pathway that I had to resort to shove my way through them rudely. Their annoyed protests brought a sinister smile to my face. It's basic decency, people; don't use up the entire path when you're walking in a group at the speed of a snail. That just gives me the right to push you aside in order to access the luxury of a paved trail that you were prohibiting from me in the first place. Ignorance may be bliss but it sure as hell can be aggravating.

Disappointingly, the trail did not feature any surprises until the very end, of which it only took me fifteen minutes in total to reach. Laie Falls was not really much to sneeze at, despite whatever the concierge might have indicated. It was only a paltry twenty feet tall – much shorter than I was expecting and less than half as extravagant. There was a small pool at the base of the falls where a few people were daintily splashing around, but I had already gone for a swim today and was not particularly keen on getting my clothes wet. The roar of the falls was not at all deafening, but practically a trickle, yet I wanted to at least make this trip worthwhile so I sat down on a nearby bench and gazed longingly at the deluge, shielding my eyes in the shade.

One of the women disengaged from her little group near the foot of the falls, wringing her hair out as she exited the pool. She was dressed in a nice bikini – not too skimpy – and she was rather attractive with cool blue eyes and long, brown hair. She had a young face, full lips and nicely placed cheekbones. Our eyes met briefly, then she looked away first. I let the corners of my mouth tip upward in a slight smile.

The girl was blushing as she gathered up the rest of her clothes and moved to sit on the bench next to mine. I could catch her in my peripheral vision stealing glances at me, but I pretended not to notice her. Eventually, I had enough of sitting here with the obvious one-sided sexual tension gradually growing and growing, so I decided to clear off and walk back to the parking lot. Maybe I was going crazy, or I was just overthinking every single signal sent my way. I know males are supposed to be stereotypically oblivious to this sort of thing, but I could not interpret any of these signs for the life of me right now.

Christ, I needed a cold shower and some alone time.

* * *

The next day went by the same schedule as yesterday. Wake up late, stuff myself at the buffet, lounge on the beach until dinner. Only this time, I planned to leave for dinner to someplace a little fancier than what the nearby locale had to offer. I had booked a reservation at the fanciest restaurant in Honolulu, a place called _Moku_ (Hawaiian for "island," as apparently it sounds foreign and mysterious to our tourist ears) at one of the premiere resorts in town. To get there without me wasting time in transit, I had to hail a skycar from one of the nearby ports so that it would only result in a five-minute trip. Expensive, but I wouldn't have to sit in a back seat for very long, twiddling my thumbs.

I stepped out of my ride when I arrived, decked out in a nice button-up shirt dress pants, and a jacket. I was politely ushered into the building and into the restaurant, whereupon I was seated at a small table and handed a menu.

Luckily I am able to decide what I want to eat very quickly. I settled on a Hawaii rancher's ribeye steak with sides of creamed kahuku sweet corn, hamakua mushrooms, shallots, and a bordelaise sauce drizzled over the entire confection. A cabernet sauvignon was the piece de resistance for my meal, which resulted in a wonderful and exotic blend of tastes to come to my tongue when combined with the steak. A delicious caramelized coconut flan drizzled with cookie crumbs and fresh fruit was the perfect conclusion to my dinner at _Moku_ and I left a hefty tip behind, but only after I was offered a cup of steaming hot Kona coffee with its trademark rich scent and hearty aftertaste. Some say that Hawaii makes the best coffee in the world and I tend to agree with the masses there. That's why I had five bags of the stuff crammed into my suitcase for me to take home. I can live without nicotine, but if you try and take caffeine away from me I'll fucking rip your heart out.

Maybe that was a little strong, but the point still stands.

Night had fallen by the time I had finished with my dinner and based on the amount of torches lit on the beach that were visible from the window, it looked like there was some sort of bonfire going on. Seemed like it was worth a look. I finished my coffee and headed out the door, the salty spray of ocean air hitting me full on in the face.

Upon closer inspection, I could see that it was not exactly a bonfire or a rave that had been set up, but more of a luau, with a bunch of dancers dressed up in stereotypical Hawaiian clothing – wrapped skirt, lei, and flowers in the hair (traditional Hawaiian dancers went topless and since this was a venue that hosted many children, the dancers here wore bras). Since this was in the middle of the city, this was one of those "fake" luaus that put on a performance that most tourists would come to expect instead of directly emulating what the Hawaiians did back in native times. I'm sure the island ancestors would be rolling in their graves at the prospect of their descendants dancing to club music rather than traditional drums.

Despite the utter cheesiness, I stood near the back and watched the dancers for a few minutes until I noticed a bar near the pool area. The buzz from the wine had worn off by this point so I figured that a small top-off would be suitable at this point in time. The place was about three-quarters full and quite cramped, yet it took no time for the bartender to notice me and ask me what I wanted to drink.

"I'll take a stout, if you have it on tap," I shrugged.

Lucky for me, they did, and the bartender filled a tall glass to the top with foaming, dark beer. I took a sip and held it in my mouth so I could take in the strong flavor. Not bad at all.

As I sipped my beer, I got a sense that I was being watched, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I tilted my head to the side and saw the profile of a pretty girl with bushy brown hair sitting next to me, sipping on a pina colada. She wore a nice sleeveless shirt and a flowing skirt with a pattern of flowers embroidered upon it. Right enough, she was the one staring at me and our eyes met. None of us turned away, for there was a flicker of recognition that transpired between the both of us, overriding any awkwardness.

"You look familiar for some reason," the woman said as she squinted her eyes in thought.

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing," I responded and took a sip of my beer. "Yesterday. Laie Falls, right?"

Her eyebrows bumped upward as everything clicked. "Ah, so that _was_ you. I guess it would be easy to remember someone like you as there was hardly anyone else on that trail. Funny how we bump into each other again like this."

"It's a small island. Anything is possible, I suppose."

"Guess so," the girl admitted as she toyed with the umbrella in her drink.

"I'm Sam," I said as I offered my hand to the woman. Might as well be polite, especially during the introductions.

"Elise," she said as she took my hand in a dainty shake. "So, what brings you to Hawaii, Sam?"

"Why else would anyone go to Hawaii? Have to use up my vacation time somewhere. The rat race takes its toll week in and week out."

"Oh? And where do you normally live?"

"The Citadel," I turned on my stool about forty-five degrees so that I could face Elise more easily. I did note that she had not asked what I did for a living first, but rather where I worked. "The beaches there leave a lot to be desired, which is why I came here instead."

Elise snorted in a rather unladylike manner at my snarky comment. "Maybe that was why I hated it the last time I visited."

"Hated it?" I jolted backward mockingly. "That's a bit strong, isn't it?"

"I don't really like space all that much – living on a space station, I mean." She looked at my face and raised her hands defensively. "I know, I know. It must sound crazy to you, admitting that I don't like to travel in space but I'd rather have solid ground beneath my feet rather than setting foot on a floating station in the middle of a dark void."

I took another sip of my beer appreciatively. "Actually, I kind of know where you're coming from. A lot of people don't seem to realize that space is a scary place. After all, we moved up there just very recently." I pointed upward at the sky for emphasis.

Elise set her drink down. "Thank you!" she said in relief. "I get mocked mercilessly by my girlfriends for not coming along with them for these so-called inter-galactic trips but I've never been convinced. I mean, what if the shuttle springs a leak on the way? We'll be dead in seconds if that happens."

"I actually think that such occurrences are quite rare," I mused as I stared into my half-empty glass. "Those shuttles tend to be very safe. I'm going to take a stab in the dark, since you've mentioned that you have a phobia of space, that you currently live on Earth, correct?"

"Correct," Elise nodded. "Good old Texas Megalopolis, born and raised."

She was referring to the series of cities located in the former state of Texas that had grown so large that they had combined into one big super-city. The metropolises of Dallas, Austin, and San Antonio had become one of the most populated areas in the world and people who hailed from there tended to be very prideful of their home.

"Don't have much of an accent for a Texan," I noted impishly.

Now Elise gave me a flirtatious look that bordered on exasperation. "We're not all cattle herders or cowboys in Texas, you know. Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead with that 'Texas twang' that some people seem to be attempting to bring back. It's not a very attractive accent, to be honest."

"I'll take your word for it." I agreed, taking another sip of beer in the process. "Also kind of explains why you would want to get out to here, away from the completely flat landscape, the godawful heat, and the incessant traffic. Unless there's another reason that brought you to this little island in the middle of nowhere?"

"It was actually a combination of the stuff you listed, but also because my best friend got dumped just last week," Elise jerked a thumb back toward a table where I could see a group of three girls giggling over tall champagne flutes. It was too dark to make out any facial features, but they were drawing quite a lot of attention to themselves based on the obnoxious noises they were making. They were probably the girls that I had seen huddled in the pool back at the falls, the same group Elise had disengaged herself from. "She found the jerk in bed with another woman and she's been distraught ever since. We thought it would be a good idea to bring her out here to get her mind off her ex."

"Well, for a place that offers a bevy of distractions, I'd say you picked a good locale. Still, that's a shitty thing to happen to someone."

"That's what I said as well and she's doing a lot better since coming here. She's a trooper."

Both of us broke off as our minds wandered, drawing over near the hula dancers who were now doing some modern rendition of the conga. I could barely keep the disgusted sigh from escaping my lips. What a complete rape of traditions.

Elise noted my sour mood and gave my arm a light nudge. "Are you enjoying this as much as I am?"

I looked over at her flatly. "If by 'enjoying this,' you actually mean 'slowly dying inside,' then yes, I am enjoying this." I kept my tone dry and did not change my expression. "This actually might be crappier than that hike yesterday."

"For a Hawaiian trail, it was rather a let-down," Elise said. "The trail was too short and the falls were unimpressive. The small pool was actually worse than the one in our hotel, believe it or not."

"Then again, that had the benefit of being outside in nature's splendor. This…this fake-y mockery of what is supposed to be a luau is just godawful."

"Agreed," Elise said before she started scribbling on a piece of paper. She handed me the slip and I took it quizzically.

"What is this?"

"My hotel and room number," she said mildly. "You're one of the few people that I've met on this trip so far that hasn't been a drooling degenerate, plus you seem like a nice enough guy. I would like to get to know you a little better, if that's all right with you."

I opened the card up and committed the information to memory. I was somewhat apprehensive, but a lot of me was relieved. Finally, someone who was not shy about their wants and needs – and on top of it, utilized above average communication to let me know what she wanted. Why else would she give me her hotel room number? To participate in a ping-pong tournament? No, this little liaison had more intimate suggestions going on underneath the surface.

"When would you like me to come up?" I asked as I pocketed the note.

"In about fifteen minutes," Elise winked slyly. "Just enough time for me to get ready." She looked back at her girlfriends before she leaned in to whisper in my ear. "They won't even realize that I'm gone."

She then abruptly departed, leaving me to finish my beer alone. My spirits, on the other hand, were rather high. Perhaps things were starting to look up after all.

* * *

At exactly fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, I got up from my seat at the bar and headed a block away to the hotel Elise indicated. It was a fancy chain hotel, not one of those roadside motels, so that was something to look forward to. The interior was plush with nice carpeting and warm LED lights illuminating all of the corners of the lobby so that nothing was draped in shadow.

The hotel's layout was self-explanatory, which meant that I found the right room straight away. I knocked twice on the door and only had to wait a few seconds until it opened, revealing a barefooted Elise, dressed in only a comfy looking robe.

"May I come in?" I asked.

"You certainly may," she grinned broadly as she opened the door wider.

I don't know what I was expecting to find anything particularly extraordinary inside the room, as it looked exactly like my room in the other hotel on the other side of the island. Vidscreen, bed, opened suitcase near the desk, all of the usual amenities were there. The only thing that was noticeably different was that Elise had a view of downtown Honolulu whereas I could only see a beach from my pad.

"You know, Elise," I coughed as I continued to gaze from the window, "did you want me to order up some champagne for form's sake or did you want to get straight to-,"

I was interrupted by a light clearing of the throat and I turned just in time to see a confident Elise undo the belt of her robe, letting it fall behind her. She was wearing nothing underneath. Her tanned skin seemed to glow from the light of the nearby lamp and her perky breasts had a luscious shape to them. Her chin was held high, knowing exactly what she was doing and she smiled as my sentence broke off in response to her undressing in front of me. Rooted to the spot, I could only stare as Elise seductively walked up to where I was standing, only to shove me on to the bed before she gleefully climbed on top of me.

And that, as they say, was that.

* * *

" _Sam…smile. You look better when you're smiling…"_

Small muscles twitched on my face and my eyelids opened unceremoniously. The right side of my body felt warm while the left felt comparatively cooler. I was in one of those positions where I was perfectly comfortable and any amount of movement would ruin the serenity. Yet, I was troubled. Why was it not possible for me to go for a long time without hearing Taylor's accursed voice in my head? This was not helping me at all.

Grunting, I turned my head to the side and saw Elise still sleeping, flat on her stomach. The sheets of the bed were up to her bare shoulders and her mouth was slightly agape, faint snores eliciting from the open maw. It was still dark outside, which meant that even though I felt rested, I had barely slept a wink.

A confusing mix of emotions dashed over me now that I was conscious, taking advantage of my temporarily lucid state. For some reason, regret was chiefly among them. Now why was that? Why should I feel regret at all? Was it because I slept with this one girl, knowing full well that I was probably never going to see her again? Well, that can't be it because I've done this so many times before that this shouldn't make any sort of difference whatsoever. Then again, I can surmise that what I was feeling was the barest sense of guilt – realizing that my mind was focused on someone else while physically, I was distant.

This was not normal; I've never felt this way before and it scared me. I was losing my mind to emotion when logic should have overridden everything, but this was the state that I was at. Laying there in that bed, naked girl on my right, I finally was able to nail the source of my turmoil down. I wanted someone else – someone to have a more established presence in my life – yet I felt that any effort to do so would be pointless due to circumstances out of my control. That was why I never bothered to learn or care more about any of the other women I've slept with over the past few years – they were just not interesting to me (or perhaps I had already made a certain decision) and I constantly found myself thinking of that quarian draped in the multi-shaded gray suit. The other bachelorettes did not have a hope in hell, looking backward.

Mind suddenly clear, I took a deep breath and slowly blinked, planning out my next moves. My actions in getting out of the bed and dressing myself back into my clothes felt smooth and rehearsed. I carefully adjusted the sheets on the bed before I quietly left, making sure that Elise was properly covered and warm. I had nothing against her; she was a very nice woman, gave great sex, and was possibly someone that I would have liked to have learned more about under different circumstances. Unfortunately, those circumstances were not in her favor this time around, but I did not want her to think that my departure was in any way her fault. To mitigate that preemptively and as a way to assuage my conscience, I wrote a tiny note and left it on her desk, thanking her for the night and wishing her a nice rest of her vacation.

Pitiful, I know. I'm probably the only person left in the galaxy who would write a note thanking someone for sex. Sometime my asshole brain gets these chivalrous urges once in a while and they can get rather…overblown. I guess I'm improperly wired.

The night was rather warm, despite the lack of sunshine, so there was no need for me to put my jacket on, really. I did, however, tempt myself to a cigarette as I walked down the road from the hotel to the nearest taxi stand. There was no one around to wrinkle their nose at me or tell me that I was killing my lungs, so I appreciated the solitude, at the very least. Aside from the sound of the waves in the background, I treasured these moments when the air was still and the sounds of humanity had died down to a minimum and everyone shut up to allow the silence to be so noticeable it was almost tangible.

I used my omni-tool to hail a cab to my current location, but taking into account the current time and location (Honolulu is not a bustling metropolis, after all) it would be a few minutes until one could be around to properly service me. Fine by me, I was not in a rush.

Finishing my cigarette, I searched around for an ashtray to stub the butt into, but found myself lacking. Frustrated that all of the accommodations usually afforded to smokers had been excised due to low population numbers of people who actually smoked, I was forced to grind what was left of my cigarette out on the ground with the heel of my shoe. I wiped the sole off on a patch of nearby grass, trying to rid it of the clinging ash.

Taking a breath of fresh air instead of choking smoke, I could taste the salt on my tongue and smiled faintly. These past few days had been beneficial in the long run, but I now believed that it was time for me to head home. I achieved all that I had set out to do when I first left the Citadel: avoid getting shot, relax, and focus my mind. Three for three is a hundred percent, so Sam McLeod gets a gold star for the day. All I had to do now was head back to the hotel, pack up my stuff, and arrange for a flight home. Sounded simple enough.

I could see headlights flitting across the windowed galleries down the street. My ride was here. A scruffy looking human pulled up in one of the sleek wheel-based vehicles and motioned for me to clamber on in. My driver was not a night person, as evident by his sour expression.

As we slowly pulled away from the stand, I began to mentally compile my itinerary for today while I was still awake. It was going to be sad leaving this place, but coming to Hawaii on occasion was what made it so memorable. In the end, everyone has to move on eventually. Coming to terms with that gave me some hope as I purchased a ticket for the flight home while also giving my hotel the time that I would be checking out via my omni-tool as well as booking the services of a skycar to bring me _back_ to Honolulu in order to get to the skyport. After that, it would be back to work at the hospital. Business as usual.

I would swiftly learn by tomorrow that business would have to wait. Something far more important awaited me back home and had I known it coming so soon beforehand, I would have been far more enthusiastic to get the hell off this planet.

Go ahead, take a wild guess at what I'm referring to.

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter might take more time than usual to submit, as I can envision it being longer than average, and also because I want to get it absolutely right with regards to how I'm handling the characters. That way I can get some good conversations in and expand upon the already established chemistry. Hopefully it'll work out all right.**

 **Hopefully.**


	14. Chapter 14: An Unusual Courtship

Blessed sleep. It's always so wonderful to get a good night's rest to get rid of the jet lag. Even though the hotel beds in Hawaii were quite luxurious and comfortable, nothing really beats the feeling of your own bed – knowing that it resides in your own house and that you have slept in it for a longer period of time than some random bed in a foreign location. Everything feels safer that way, giving a better peace of mind.

It was also one of those mornings where, despite me having consumed a good amount of alcohol beforehand to help me sleep better, I miraculously woke up without a hangover. Heh, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake blissfully without the sensation of spears jamming themselves into my temples. Relieved, I continued to lie in bed for at least another half hour, as I was still so comfortable that I did not want to leave my fort of thick blankets and soft sheets to venture out, even briefly, into the freezing air of my apartment. Thus was my struggle for the moment. Whatever was a guy to do?

As it turns out, a quick and innocuous glance to my chronometer solved the dilemma. Apparently, either from drinking or from having my internal clock being totally out of whack, I had somehow slept all the way through the morning and into the afternoon. Half the day wasted right there. Suddenly, I did not feel so tired anymore.

I legged it into the bathroom, ignoring the icy blizzard against my skin for as long as it took for me to jump into the shower. After the world's quickest wash, I dressed myself and did all the necessary hygiene to my person before I walked out into my living room only to realize that there was really no need to rush – despite the temporary panic. It was a Sunday – I did not have to go to the office and there was nothing else on my agenda that was particularly pressing, so what was I so worried about? Maybe I had a momentary scare thinking that I might have missed out on something important this morning, but now that I had a chance to calm down, I realized that my worries had been misguiding me. Damn faulty brain.

Breathing a bit deeper, I sat down on the couch and opened my omni-tool, which caused me to frown as I noted something troubling. Apparently I had set the feature for any incoming calls to automatically go to my messages folder during those four days that I had been gone. Most likely it was an effort by me to mitigate any and all distractions while I was relaxing on a scalding beach. Great, another reason to curse my utter stupidity. I can only imagine how bombarded my folder is going to be by the time I opened it. I prepared myself to be overwhelmed.

To my surprise and relief, there were only ten messages that I had received from when I had blacked out my omni-tool. Guess I won't have to be doing as much following up as I thought. A good portion of the messages were from work, requesting me to do some additional paperwork for patients coming in for their check-ups post-surgery. That was all business as usual, so I deleted them without a second thought as I committed the dates to memory. The rest were all social calls I learned as I opened them one at a time, some from friends asking me to join in on a bar crawl, others just wanting to talk, supposedly. I deleted those too.

I got to the most recent message and opened it without even looking at who sent it, my eyes having glazed over by then. It was not a text message, but a voicemail instead, as evident by the audio bursting to life within my ears.

" _Sam, it's Nya_ ," the smooth, female voice intoned (as if I could ever forget who she was.) My heartrate must have jumped up twenty beats in half a second as a realization dropped to my stomach. God…just hearing her voice…it never failed to awaken something within me. I've felt this way before, but only once.

" _Thought I'd try your line again,"_ she proceeded, not wasting any time that I almost had to rewind the message in order for my brain to catch up. _"It's currently the middle of the day from where I'm currently standing. Any guesses where I might be?_ " A few seconds elapsed as she paused but they felt like forever to me. " _You're right! I'm on the Citadel, finally free from my duties and I have some time to kill before I have to head back to the flotilla. Keelah, I hope you get this. I'll be at the il-Xavo restaurant on the fifth arm of the station if you hear this message later. If not, I'll give you updates as I go along but I really, really hope that I will be able to see you again._ "

I could hear a few noises of Nya opening her mouth a few times but she remained silent, almost as if she had no clue of what to say next to her embarrassment and she ended the message soon afterward.

Heart in my mouth, I quickly checked the properties of Nya's message and found, to my everlasting exasperation, that I had apparently missed out on three other messages that Nya had tried to send me during that four day period. What had I been _thinking_ , disabling my omni-tool's settings like that? Why did I have to faff about so much and have important crap like this show surprise me at unexpected times? But, to my joy, I looked at the message that I had just listened to and discovered that it was sent only ten minutes ago. Ten minutes! She was on this station right now! _Now_ I had an excuse to hustle.

I leaped into my shoes and a jacket and I bustled out of my complex down to the docks where my sport ship was currently housed. No way was I going to wait for public transport and waste any more valuable time. No more dawdling from me, Nya was back on the Citadel and I was going to see her again!

* * *

I must have seemed like quite the douchebag when I pulled up at the docks on arm five and hustled off without even tipping the station attendant, but I had more pressing matters on my mind. I jogged onto the neon promenade, not caring how much of an idiot I looked. I actually had places to be and if running got me there quicker, then I'm going to run. Simple as that. Meek, timid Sam has finally grown into his own.

Arm five was known for housing most of the luxury stores that the rich residents of the Citadel perused frequently in order to satiate their urge to spend their money. I did not look relatively poor in my current clothes – one might say they were part of the trendy crowd – but compared to all of the fancy suits and dresses some of these people were wearing, I might as well have been a bum. That would have been devastating to my ego…if I actually gave a shit over what those people thought of me.

The il-Xavo restaurant was just around the next corner so I slowed my pace and dabbed the sweat from my forehead that had formed from my exertions. Hopefully I looked reasonably presentable. I sidestepped my way past a gaggle of youths and the front of the establishment came into sight. Immediately I could spot the forms of two quarians at the door and my mouth widened into a large smile. A second later, I realized that they were not looking in my direction, but currently engaged in what looked like an argument with a krogan bouncer that was barring them entrance. From the looks of their body language, the quarians were getting agitated.

"You can't just say we're not welcome!" I could hear Nya's familiar voice plead as I drew closer. "We just want something to eat! We're not beggars!"

"Don't care," the bouncer rumbled, his ugly reptilian eyes emotionally dismissing the quarians. "My boss doesn't like quarians scampering around the place. We've had too many incidents with you lot stealing scraps off of tables in the past. Bad for business."

I had reached the carpeted steps and put one foot on the first riser, giving myself a confident pose, still unseen by the quarians.

"There a problem here?" I asked, resisting the urge to make a corny quip at such a delicate time.

Nya instantly whirled at my voice and I could not resist smiling, despite the fact that I could not see the astonished look on her face through her blood-red visor. The expressions her body alone made, the splayed out arms and the frozen posture, gave me the perfect reference for what she was feeling at this moment. She still wore the same gray-toned suit, with her ragged waist cloak, and stylized hood covering her helmet. Physically, she had not changed one bit.

"Sam!" Nya practically yelled and practically ran down the steps to constrict me in a bone-crushing hug. I let out a surprised cough but still mustered enough breath to return the gesture. From her muscular grip that her suit very cleverly hid, it was apparent that if I were to get involved in an arm-wrestling match with Nya, I would probably have a real challenge on my hands. Hell, I would even put money on the fact that Nya just might beat me. Delicately strong, emotionally fierce.

Before I could asphyxiate, Nya released her grip on me and I had to fight not to take a huge gulp of air all at once. "It's been too long, Nya," I grinned. "My god, it's good to see you."

Nya bounced on her toes – there could be no interpreting that tic for anything other than pure bliss. "Sam…I…" Nya tried to say before she lost the words and moved in to give me another hug, gentler this time. "I really missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too," I said as we continued to hug for a few more precious seconds. My eyes flitted momentarily to the right while Nya briefly leaned her helmeted head against mine and I saw, to my disgust, a similarly garbed figure standing just a few feet away, his arms crossed. There was no mistaking that ugly pea green suit and the mood quickly turned sour, causing my arms to fall limp – the signal to break away the hug, to which Nya did so rather reluctantly.

"Vhen," I announced emotionlessly, my face completely devoid of the joy that had been present just moments prior. Just one instant I had been feeling extremely happy, now hatred was bubbling up at the very sight of this man. No wonder, considering what he did to me in the past.

"Human," Vhen said in a similar tone, his glowing eyes judging me from behind the glass of his visor. It had not appeared that his mood had softened after all this time either.

I squinted my eyes at him apprehensively. Of course the urge to just punch the lights out of the man came to mind, but my common sense quickly quashed that notion. Even though this quarian was the reason why I could not see Nya in person again until now, I resolved not to get into a physical brawl with him…at least not while Nya was around. Such an impulsive act would not look good on my person and my track record with scuffling has not exactly been good. If Vhen thought that I would have forgiven him for trying to goad me into a fight however, then he was dead wrong.

Now ignoring Vhen, I turned to the bouncer, letting the green-suited quarian stew in his anger. "I would like to enter. This one here," I put an arm around Nya, drawing her close, "she's with me." I deliberately did not include Vhen to make it obvious that I cared little for him. It may have been an asshole move, but I only reserve such moves for assholes.

The krogan impassively shook his head. "You may enter, but they may not," he rumbled.

Even though the krogan looked fearsome, I was not going to take no for an answer. Either my indignant attitude would bring me victory today or the krogan would take it from me. The old Sam would have given up by now, but I was used to dealing with aliens. They all had their weak points – one just had to know where to apply pressure.

"And why the hell not?"

"Policy," came the unhelpful reply. "Not my place to argue. The quarians are not coming in."

"It's all right, Sam," Nya urged as she tried to pull my arm away. "We'll just find another place to eat. I'm sure there's somewhere else that caters to quarians."

"There is a place," I said to her, "and this is one of them." I took another step in an attempt to gain more height on the krogan but since I was talking to an alien several feet taller than me, the gesture was most likely wasted energy.

"Look," I intoned at the bouncer, "I'm with the Huerta Guild of Doctorate Recipients – a frequent guest of this establishment, mind you – and I have also been here several times to entertain certain clients who carry considerable wealth on this station. While an ordinary citizen's review might not carry much weight across the extranet, if I get word to the head of my guild, we might just conduct our fundraisers at the Sizzler's across the way, if this is how you treat the guests of a fellow member. You want me to explain this to your boss or do you want to just step aside and let us in?"

The krogan slit eyes never looked away from my hard, blue ones. It was harder to read a krogan's facial expressions but there were minute movements of his jaw that indicated that the bouncer was deep in thought. After a bit, he gave an inaudible grunt and took a singular step to the side, allowing all three of us passage."

"Thought so," I said as I extended a hand to Nya and led her into the restaurant. Despite the krogan's steadfast policy of barring quarians, the hostess and the wait staff did not seem to bat an eye at the suited aliens, and very quickly we were seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant. We had just missed the lunch rush, it seemed, as there were very little patrons around us to drown out any conversations with their background chatter.

"You're really with a doctor's guild?" Nya whispered as we headed to the front desk, awed.

"A very recent member," I responded with a guilty grin. "Only a few weeks. I haven't really spent enough time with them to actually participate in their quarterly dinners. I just happen to know that they have been here occasionally in the past and maybe I exploited that fact a bit to my – _our_ – advantage."

"Sneaky," Nya was impressed. "Very sneaky of you."

The hostess directed us to our table and set our menus and silverware down. Nya sat down first and I was about to join her until I saw Vhen slide a chair out next to Nya as he prepared to take his place at the table. Now that won't do. That slimeball is not setting next to Nya – or anywhere within a twenty-five yard radius of me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I held up a hand at him, halting him mid-sit. "What do you think you're doing?"

Vhen looked back at me, quizzical. "Uh…sitting down to eat? What else _would_ I be doing?"

"Yeah, well you're not eating at _my_ goddamn table," I snorted. "You can sit over at the bar back there, but I'm not going to eat my food with your mug staring at me across the way."

"The hell is this?" Vhen stood back up, annoyed. "Are you saying that you don't want to eat alongside a quarian? You'd vouch for us at the door but you won't stain your hands sharing a meal with us? Just going to stab me in the back, like any human would do?"

Once again, I was taken aback by this man's complete and utter disregard for what was in front of his face. Nya fidgeted in her seat, embarrassed, and I felt my face turn red as I became incensed. Truthfully, I should have expected some friction from Vhen but a part of me thought that he might have changed over the months. Guess I was wrong.

"Jesus fuck, you are still an arrogant prick!" I snarled. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not protesting Nya's presence, just yours. I have no reason to discriminate against quarians at all! Why does everything that _I_ do have to be reflected on humans in general? If you somehow forgot, you _assaulted_ me back on board your ship and tried to instigate a brawl between us. That's not really something that one would forget easily and since you have still failed to provide me with an apology or show any sign of remorse for that violent act, I'd rather you get out of my sight before I return the favor. No security to protect me from you this time, pal, so anything that goes on between us will continue _unprohibited_. You'd better watch what you say very carefully."

"Apolog-? _Apology?!_ " Vhen stammered so loudly that fellow diners began to look in our direction. "This is totally unacceptable! In fact, I don't think that I have to listen to you. _Nya_ should be the one to decide whether I should stay or not, since we're part of the same crew. Should I leave like this human says, Nya, or should I sit back down?"

This was amusing. I arced an eyebrow and crossed my arms, knowing exactly what Nya's answer would be, despite Vhen's confident tone. You'd think that after years spent together, Vhen would have a clue of what Nya really felt about him but it was apparent that his male obliviousness was hard at work. In truth, I really hoped that Vhen would throw a fit so that I could finally have an excuse to punch him in the gut. Not the face – I didn't want to damage him any more than necessary.

Nya sighed and straightened, but did not so much as spare a glance at her shipmate. "Go away, Vhen," she said simply, her eyes narrowing from even having to direct a string of words at his person. I think my heart must have swelled to twice its size.

Vhen did a double take, clearly caught off guard from his crewmate's answer. "But…but…" the man protested, stupidly not expecting the outcome to be what it was.

"You heard the lady," I shrugged. "Clear off so that the two of us can treasure the time that you're not fouling the air around us."

"You can't forbid me from at least sitting with you, human! You have no power over me. I won't have it!"

I made a talking gesture with my hand for a bit before waving it around aimlessly, my head looking in all directions in a comical manner. "I could have sworn I had heard a noise," I said sarcastically, playing up my apparent and convenient loss of hearing. "Like a little annoying…buzz."

"Listen human-!"

"I have a name, you know. Getting called ' _human'_ all the time gets rather old, especially since I know that you know my name. How would you feel if I decided to call you 'Captain Blowhard' from here on out?"

"I will not sit here and have you mock me! I am a trained marine and you're just a lowly civilian!"

"Stop acting like a child, Captain Blowhard." It was remarkable that this quarian felt so entitled. I've encountered B-list movie stars less stuck-up than him. Granted, my juvenile comments were probably not helping matters but I was reaching the end of my patience. I get testy when my limits get pushed. "If you really wanted a place at the table, I'd be willing to take you on in a battle of wits but since you've come unarmed, I'm afraid that you're simply not worth the effort. Now get out or I shall insult you some more."

Vhen seriously looked like he wanted to incite a riot, based on how fiercely his eyes were glowing. But he seemed to take not of the fact that I was more physically imposing, looking ready to tussle, and that Nya made her intentions very clear, Vhen had no choice but to soften.

"Fine," he muttered with a wave of dismissal. "I wasn't hungry anyway." He walked away towards the exit, neutered, too angry to even be in the same establishment with us. After he departed, I finally sat down with a sigh of relief.

Immediately after I settled in, Nya reached over and touched her gloved fingers on the back of my hand. I looked up at her and smiled and her eyelids squinted from the return gesture.

"Thank you for that," she said.

"And thank _you_ for helping me tell him off," I added. "Jeez, that prick. What gall, to even assume that I would be fine sharing a table with him. Why did he even tag along with you in the first place?"

Nya drooped her head so low that it almost touched the table. "Why do you think? He still believes that he has a chance with me."

"You didn't try to tell him off beforehand?"

"I _did_. Apparently I was being too subtle about it as he never seemed to be fazed from my attempts. He would always wave my hints off and said that I could use the company. He still has not figured out that I cannot stand _his_ company."

"For a guy like Vhen, I'd wager that something like a sledgehammer blow would be enough to get the point across. Why not try that next time? "

Nya giggled and knotted her fingers together with mine. I could feel her warmth through the enviro-suit and I squeezed her fingers in random intervals, the sensation making me feel much more calm and relaxed.

I heard a tutting sound from the table next to us and I spotted a pair of asari staring over, looking at our tightly clenched hands. The two aliens gave looks of disgust and I was still seething from having to deal with Vhen that I almost considered getting out of my chair and giving the two blue skins a piece of my mind. Nya seemed to sense my agitation and tightened her grip on me so hard that I winced.

"Don't," she urged. "We're here now. No one else can bother us."

"I ought to…" I said before I cut myself short. Nya was right, of course. No sense in embarrassing myself in front of her. If she hadn't done that, I probably would have made an ass out of myself. "Sorry. I guess I'm still frustrated with having to deal with Vhen. He makes me want to tear out my hair sometimes."

"The feeling is mutual," Nya agreed. "Although, I _would_ be able to tear my own hair out, if I weren't helmeted."

I made a gesture that more like a one-shoulder shrug, granting Nya that allowance. Our waiter brought us our water at this time and we quickly ordered so that we could be left alone once more. I forwent alcohol this time, partly because I felt that I had been drinking too much lately and also because I didn't want to overdo it in front of Nya.

"We've spoken over our omni-tools a lot," I noted out loud, "but it never seemed to satiate my desire to speak with you."

"I know. The feeling is so different, face-to-face. Already it feels more…meaningful. Like what we're saying actually matters."

"Exactly," I indicated with a grin and a quick point. "Talking to you like this, it…it's like a missing piece in me has been put back together for everything to make sense. What do you think that means?"

Nya propped her head up with her arm as she scanned the ceiling momentarily for inspiration. "I think…that you're just as glad as I am to see each other again. To be able to talk, see, feel the other." She considered me thoughtfully. "You…you really wanted to see me this badly? Me…a quarian?"

"That surprises you?"

"I honestly thought," Nya raised a hand briefly, "that you would have moved on from the few conversations that we had on the flotilla. I even figured that you would be with someone else by now…like a…ah, a girlfriend."

Midway through a sip of water, I almost choked at the very mention of the word ' _girlfriend_.' Read into that what you will. "No, nothing like that," I said through a raw throat. "I've got way too many issues to even consider something like that. And don't sell yourself short; no bullshit from my end, our conversations were short, yes, but you made quite the impression on me, which is something that no one else has ever done since. At least, not in such a large capacity."

Nya perked up, visibly feeling elated at my words. Interesting that making this faceless (in her current state) alien happy elicited similar changes in me as well. I mean, causing joy in others does cause positive effects for both parties, but this was more than telling a simple joke at a party. Perhaps it was knowing her rough upbringing that amplified the effects in me. Deep down, though, I knew that I was evading the real truth for why this was so.

"To come from a human…" Nya whispered. "How strange." I didn't question her over her statement, preferring to let her continue at her own pace. "That you're one of the few to not hold a prejudice against me and my race is unique. You definitely made your own impression too."

There was a reason for that. Probably because I never had to deal with quarians for most of my natural life, which meant that I had not had enough time to build up said prejudices against her race, thereby making me technically naïve to the social standings the races of the galaxy hold. Yeah, that answer was _not_ going to take. Technically correct, but who would believe such a thing?

"Saving your skin was probably the clincher," I said with a sly smile. I guess I finally reached the point where I could joke about that miserable event. It's true what they say: comedy equals tragedy plus time.

Nya snorted. "You won't be able to hold that against me for long. You caught me on an off day."

"We can argue about the semantics later – sarcasm can wait. In any case, what have you been doing in the past few days since we last talked?"

"Just stuff," Nya replied facetiously. "We arrived on the Citadel yesterday and loaded up the cargo that a few pilgrims were bringing in on board to send to the fleet. Mostly food supplies and medical machines. Speaking of which, anything interesting happen to you in that timespan, _Doctor_ Sam?"

I laughed at that. "Just Sam to you, Nya. Having people call me doctor outside of work makes me feel old. And…"

My voice kind of trailed off as I realized that a lot had happened in the past week. Apart from witnessing someone's guts get blown outside of their body and bleeding to death, to the extended vacation I took to Hawaii, there was a significant amount of material that I could string together to interest Nya in an extended anecdote. Only, the material did not lend itself to be told to anyone easily, as several of those memories I would rather not recant, especially the ones about the would-be robber with his intestines hanging outside of his body. Fibbing was my only option at this point.

"…the days have been kind of slow," I shrugged. "The thing about working in a hospital is that you do more work with a pen than you do with a scalpel."

"Ugh," Nya gave an exaggerated shudder. "Say no more. I hate filling out paperwork."

"Quarians have desk jobs too?"

"We're just as bureaucratic as anyone else. Seems that every species likes to have inventory filled out manually instead of relying on VI scripts to perform such menial tasks. At least, that's what I do whenever I'm given stuff to fill out – saves time that way."

"You're kidding," I leaned forward. "You wrote code for a VI to fill out redundant paperwork? I never knew that I wanted such a thing in my life."

"Oh, not me," Nya shook her head. "A fellow shipmate loaned me the source code. I can give you the code, if you would like."

"That's nice, Nya," I waved a hand. "But writing up reports is the only thing that fills up time for me these days. I have too much free time as it is and filling out slips takes up a good block of that time, saving me from being bored all day."

The quarian drew her arms closer, making her appear smaller. "That's true. I guess if you have too much free time…" She looked forlornly off in the distance before gazing at me somberly. As I stared into her glowing eyes, I felt an odd sensation of complete comfort and tranquility – something that I had not felt before in…years, probably.

"I'm just very happy to see you," Nya blurted out unexpectedly. "Just this…sitting here together, it's all I've wanted since that day you were forced to leave."

I so desperately wanted to declare the same thing, to the point where my lips were bursting to say the words. But I held back, mashing my feelings down until they stopped squawking. My eyes, however, betrayed me and I think Nya could tell from the way I was looking at her. She knew that I wanted to be with her – to speak to her and to _hold_ her. God, things would be so much easier without all this inner turmoil!

Unexpectedly, Nya scooted her chair over so that she was no longer facing across from me, but now at a ninety degree angle, closer to my body. Without warning, she leaned forward and enveloped my body in a very tender hug, which caught me off guard in a very pleasant way. Nya sighed in my arms and I felt a part of me reach out to her, almost as if I drew forth her anguish and imprinted it onto myself. Wow…to actually have her desperation become tangible was unreal. This was not lust from her in any way, but a pure and earnest need for a comforting presence. Unwilling to disappoint her for a moment, I wrapped my arms around her and closed my eyes for a moment, my cheek pressing against the top of her helmet. Ah, there it was. That feeling of being complete again. It felt good.

"Um…what did I do to deserve this?" I mumbled, continuing to hug Nya. "And what can I do to make this happen again in the future?"

"Just sit with me," Nya said simply, her voice barely trembling. "I want to make this last as long as possible. It's been too long since I've…well, since I've talked with anyone like this. Just you. _Only_ you."

Curiously, I extended my arm and gently brought my hand underneath the chin of Nya's helmet, raising it up so that she didn't wilt in despair. The brushed metal felt rough, like it had been scuffed over repeatedly, and was slightly warm to the touch. The movement was entirely natural to me that I did not question what I was doing. Our faces were inches from the other that I imagined that I could appraise my own image in her own limpid pools.

"You've been lonely this whole time?" I softly asked her.

Wrapping a hand around my wrist, Nya nodded almost microscopically. "A year and a half of no one to converse with other than Vhen would make _anyone_ miserable." She searched for the right words for a few seconds. "I would never say this normally but…it's the kind of stuff like this that makes me hate my own people sometimes. They claim they're focusing on the greater good like the collective by making its young population go out on Pilgrimage as soon as they come of age. But all that does is expose us to how the other races are exposed to more freedoms in ways we could never have imagined otherwise. I mean, look at you, Sam! You _chose_ where you wanted to live, where you wanted to work, what you wanted to eat and wear! Look at me as a comparison! I'm lucky that I get to fly at all and that still has not spared me the scorn of my shipmates from being of a 'lower' birth than them."

"What's to stop you from leaving, then?" I asked honestly.

Nya balked and considered my question thoughtfully. "I don't know," she said. "I…I don't think I could imagine living my life away from the fleet."

"You've done it before in your childhood," I pointed out. "What's to stop you from doing it again?"

"I…how would I get a job? Money to pay for food and…and a place to sleep? The political climate does not accommodate much for quarians. I…I would starve within months. Become broke in weeks, maybe even beaten up again. I couldn't possibly-,"

"Okay, okay," I interrupted as I saw just how agitated Nya was getting. I put an arm around her shoulders and gingerly embraced her, having the immediate effect of calming her down. "Shh, Nya. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," she mumbled. "I just had to get that off my chest. I…I should have made it more apparent that I was just venting to you."

"Well, maybe if you swap out your mask for a clear one, I would have less trouble telling if you're being facetious or not," I said jokingly.

"Hah!" Nya laughed. "No chance of that happening. I like it when people can't see me sticking their tongue out at them from behind my visor." She looked up at me, her eyes devilishly squinted. "I'm doing it to you now, actually."

"You're so mean," I gave her a playful shove on the shoulder. Tit for tat. "Don't tell me that's the reason why quarians' visors are tinted so heavily."

"Couldn't really say," Nya pondered. "My best guess was that the visors were relics during the days when these enviro-suits were used to make repairs out in space – thus the need to tint them to protect us from solar radiation. Most likely when the first quarians were driven off Rannoch, we just kept the suits the way they were and that was the template for how they looked ever since."

"That makes a whole lot of sense that I wonder why I didn't pick up on it earlier."

There was a moment of inexplicable panic that arose as Nya slipped her arm around mine, binding our hands once again. The feeling quickly faded, leaving me to lean slightly against her, returning the affection. The notion that I was actively engaging and reciprocating strong hints was not lost on me, but it was hard to resist the allure. Warning bells may have been going off in my head previously but I was able to ignore them, for now.

Nya looked down at my hand, knuckles twitching from being encased in an iron grip. "You too?"

"Hmm?"

Giving a light laugh, Nya gently placed her free palm atop our hands that held the other. "Sam, I've been lonely for practically my entire life. It's not hard for me to tell that you're immensely relieved to be near me again."

I let out a nervous chuckle. "You see a lot, Nya. And you'd be right, but I am loath to admit it."

"So why did you?"

"Because you admitted it first."

"Point taken," Nya said. "But _why_ are you lonely? You have friends here, a life far better than I could ever have. I've noticed it, even from our calls, that you've always seemed distant. Somewhat sad. Why?"

Unwanted memories floated on past my mind's eye, brought on from Nya's prodding. Flashes of Taylor smiling, then to a body crumpled at the side of a road, to me standing in a crowd of black – staring at a freshly marked headstone, all arrived unannounced. Nya did not so much as glance away from me and I understood that she was more perceptive than I had initially thought. Perhaps…perhaps she wanted me to share what troubled me so. Was that really what she wanted or was she just being polite?

I decided to evade the question ever so slightly. "Most people…I honestly don't tend to empathize with. I can be social and distant at the same time. It's just how I am – an imperfect being. Very few people…I've only emotionally connected with a scant number."

"And…" Nya said haltingly. "How many people would you say you empathize with now?"

I knew that this was one answer that she could catch me in a lie immediately, so I could not do that to her. I could not lie, not at this critical moment.

Licking my lips, I proceeded cautiously. "I can say…that there is one person that I've empathized with in recent memory."

Nya's pleading eyes begged for more answers, but before she could ask the proper questions, the waiter arrived with our food. And just like that, the mood was broken. Nya shifted back into her seat, her shadowed expression slackening blankly like she had just woken up from a long nap. The soft jazz music projected over the speakers seemed more pronounced now and the rest of the background noise had risen in volume as well.

A lump had grown in my throat in the past few minutes and I gulped it down. My hands had also gotten pretty clammy so I rubbed them together underneath the table to warm them up. Nya had already began sucking up the food in her tube (some kind of meat and vegetable paste) and based on the rate it was being drained, she thought it was pretty good.

Awkwardly, I struggled to look at Nya with occasional glances as I proceeded to tear into my prime rib. Eventually I just concentrated on my food, using bits of my Yorkshire pudding to soak up the juice that the medium rare meat exuded. As befitting a steakhouse, the portions were small, but the entrée plus the provided sides were more than enough to fill my stomach so I was more than satisfied by the time I finished.

"Good?" I gestured to Nya's empty food tube, breaking the silence between us.

"Best meal I've had in a long time," Nya sighed contently.

"Well, I'm glad that your visit to the Citadel this time has been less…stressful for you this time around."

"You can say that again. Any second I'm not lying in a hospital bed is a second well spent."

Reflexively, I checked my chronometer. "We still have practically half the day left. Is there anything else you would like to do while you're here?"

"I'm not sure," Nya shrugged. "What is there to do around here?"

I thought for a minute as I got the map of the current ward we were currently occupying in my head. "There's a casino nearby…a movie theater…there's also the Armax Arsenal Arena a couple blocks away…"

"Armax Arsenal Arena?" Nya's head perked up. "What's that?"

* * *

"Oh boy, are you in for a surprise," I grinned as we entered through the sliding doors. A world of brand-spanking-new and immaculate surfaces greeted us with aplomb, nearly blinding the pair of us with its brilliance. Sparkle and schmaltz were out in force to cater to its target audience.

The Arena was built and sponsored by Armax Arsenal a couple years back to be the premiere combat simulator on the Citadel – a place where people could go to hang out and shoot holographic enemies on physical sets bolstered by virtual backgrounds to create the seamless effect of taking part in a war. It sounded like a home run for Armax and they expected the profits to roll on in, but what they did not realize until the numbers started showing up on their balance sheet, was that the idea of a combat simulator had not really captured the hearts and minds of its target audience as much as their market research studies initially predicted.

On board a station completely packed to the brim with leisure activities, a combat simulator would realistically barely make a blip for the night owls prowling around to get an adrenaline rush, due to an overabundance of venues selling the same thing. That was what the various theme parks and go-ship rides were for on the next arm over. The other problem was the cost. A single session in the Arena cost two thousand credits and that was just for one person. Realistically, no sober person was going to spend all of that money for a ten-minute session only to be a couple grand out of pocket almost instantly. One could rent a pleasure yacht for a night with that amount of money. Several starving orphans could be fed for months with that kind of budget.

While Nya was rotating on the spot, trying to take everything in, I quickly edged over to one of the VIs in the corner that took on the appearance of a female turian and paid for the both of us. I did not want Nya to see that I was dropping four grand just so that we could blast a few make-believe enemies together. She would probably say that she wasn't worth the money, but I had never had played in the Arena before and I knew this was something that I did not want to experience by myself, so I might as well take this opportunity while it was dangling in front of my face.

The VI gestured to the wall next to me, where there was a large slot that a bunch of yellow arrows were pointing to. Lights around the slot started to light up and two rifles then slid out on a rack for me to take. I turned the weapons over. Armax Crossfires, top of the line and very difficult to acquire for anyone outside of the turian military. However, I could see that the barrels of the weapons were covered and replaced by infrared sensors. That made sense; live ammunition in an enclosed area was obviously going to be a bad idea. Simulated gunfire provided the most safety and made the players less nervous. While on the ground they wouldn't have to worry about a bullet burrowing itself into their back.

I caught up with Nya and handed her one of the rifles. She hefted it for a bit and turned it over, eying every single detail of the gun in a practiced manner – testing its pliability for faults. In contrast, I just settled for holding the thing in my hands, not having the first clue why or where I should examine the gun.

A hand suddenly clapped down on my shoulder, startling me. "Sam, you son of a bitch!" a familiar voice laughed. "Come to play with the big dogs, eh?"

I gave a dry laugh and slowly turned around, noting Nya's tilted head in curiosity. "It's just my unlucky day, Josh," I greeted. "Today was the day that I wanted to avoid looking at your ugly face and already, you've ruined my streak."

Josh gave a toothy grin and lightly slugged my arm. "You're a real bastard, you know that? But look at this place! Isn't it awesome? I see that you've got passes for the next open arena so I guess we're sharing a battlefield together!"

"Seems like it."

Nya walked up to my side, intrigued at the new arrival and Josh turned to her, surprised. "Hello there," he said in a sultry manner that irked me a lot more than I expected. "You never mentioned that you were bringing a friend, Sam, you sly devil! I'm Josh Kinney, ma'am. And you are…?"

"Nyareth'Kannos vas Xonna," the quarian responded warily, taking Josh's offered hand. Josh then began to pump Nya's hand up and down in a handshake so hard that it looked like he was trying to inflate a bicycle tire. Eventually, Nya broke the hold and a platinum-blond haired woman sidled up to Josh's side, her makeup suspiciously immaculate.

"Baby," the woman said in a thick Eastern European accent, "they're about to start."

"Be along in a minute, Ludmilla," Josh said apologetically before he gestured to Nya and me. "These are two people I'd like you to meet: Sam McLeod and Nyareth'Kannos. They're good guys – only met Nyareth ten seconds ago but I trust Sam's choice in friends well enough."

"Ma'am," I gave a polite nod. Nya just settled for eye contact and a quick bob of her head.

Ludmilla just looked disinterested and soon slinked away, leaving a lasting rub of her fingernails along Josh's shirt that looked rather suspect from my perspective.

"Uh, Josh?" I coughed. "This your newest girlfriend or something?"

Josh made a pained face and shrugged. "Who, Ludmilla? I can't keep track anymore, dude. Met her at a hookah bar the other day and one thing led to another…and so on."

"Yeah. I kind of get the picture."

"Turns out she's loaded, though. She paid for _both_ our admissions. Four grand for admissions and she didn't even bat an eye!"

"So you're a gold digger now?" I crossed my arms in amusement. "Josh, you know I've never questioned your lifestyle choices before but somewhere along the way I'm going to lose my self-control."

I didn't specifically state out loud what I could find fault with, but Josh did not seem to be all that fazed with the fact that I could not condone with his choice of whom to engage in a relationship with. "Tell me something I don't know," he shrugged again before he turned on his heel. "Come on, we'd better go before they decide to give someone else our spot!"

And at that, he jogged off, leaving me and Nya to catch up. She matched my pace and looked at me wide-eyed. "Was the admissions cost really four thousand credits?"

Crap. Thanks a lot, Josh, for bringing that to her attention.

"Let me tell you something about Josh," I assured her. "He tends to be on the energetic side, if you know what I mean. He's very easily entertained and that also happens to come with a tendency to exaggerate every now and then. The way he speaks, he recants every anecdote having some kind of fistfight in the middle of the narrative when I know for a fact he's never been in a fight in his life. He's a good guy, but when he says 'four grand for admissions,' he's definitely fluffing things up for effect."

"So how much were the tickets?" Nya countered.

"Nowhere near four grand," I lied, which seemed to be acceptable to Nya.

We entered the staging area for Arena Three, which was quite a cramped hallway fitted with halogen blue lighting. If the makers of this place wanted to exacerbate the effects of claustrophobia, then they certainly succeeded. I was surprised to see Ludmilla in here with a faux rifle of her own – although I was not expecting her to unleash any particular combat prowess here. She looked too much like the type to be worried more about the state her makeup than the overall match. I'd be willing to bet that if even a hair got out of place on her head, she would start to burst into tears. Nya, on the other hand, gripped her weapon tightly, ready to rock and roll. No questioning her combat training that was coming into play there.

" _Greetings, players_ ," an overhead intercom voice broke out in the hallway. " _Welcome to the Armax Arsenal Arena! The rules are simple – score the most points to win! Points are awarded to any enemy downed by your weapon or anything by your own hand and vary depending on the difficulty level of the enemy itself. Under no circumstances is there to be any physical attacks on your fellow contestants such as punching, kicking, or biting other players, lest you receive an expulsion from the combat zone_."

"Aw man," Josh groaned facetiously and I quickly shushed him.

" _The weapons you have at your disposal utilize infrared sensors, so no players will be harmed if you discharge them in their direction. However, despite there being no direct injury from the weapons themselves, friendly fire will result in a loss of points on your end, so aim carefully. Now, the players have the option to choose the enemy faction on a randomized setting. Whom would you like to face today?_ "

"Saracens!" Josh blurted out.

I smacked the back of his head. "No, you dummy! The Saracens were an ethnic group from the time of the Crusades, armed with swords and arrows. I'd rather face a foe more technologically advanced than them."

"Oh, I thought they were like those weird globular monsters in that _Unfixable_ film or whatever."

"No wonder everyone thinks we're all racist," I growled before I spoke upwards toward the intercom. "How about…Nazis? Yeah, let's go with Nazis as our foe. Unless anyone has any objections to that?"

"Nope," Josh shrugged. "No argument from me. _Everyone_ hates Nazis."

Out of everyone in the group, Nya was the only one who seemed confused. "What are Nazis?" she asked.

"Just a group of not-so-nice humans that existed a few centuries ago," I answered, recalling my European history. "They were a bunch of fascists that persecuted anyone they believed was inferior to them. A bunch of infamous achievements that they are noted for is the systemic extermination of anyone with disabilities or differing religious beliefs, instigating a war that spanned the entire planet, and having a crazy man leading them with the stupidest mustache in history."

"Oh," Nya said as she brought her rifle up to bear. "I guess I won't have to feel sorry for killing their virtual counterparts, then."

"Ha!" Josh laughed. "I'm liking her already, Sam." He then turned in a panic to a scowling Ludmilla. "…But I've always liked you first, baby!"

"Pathetic," I whispered to Nya, who giggled.

" _Contestants!_ " the intercom blared. " _Syncing personal shield generators to correspond with matching hits. The battle is about to begin_. _Get ready! Go!_ "

The doors slammed open with a bang and the roar from beyond assaulted our ears. Adrenaline surged into my bloodstream all at once and I was out of the gate with no clue as to what I was going to do, I realized. Artificial sunlight unexpectedly flared into my eyes and I threw up a hand to cover them.

The whine of a heavy round whizzed right past me and I instinctively ducked. Someone was actually _shooting_ at me! I've never had this happen to me before! My eyes darted all over the place, trying to spot the unseen enemy when all of a sudden I began backpedaling as bursts of static fizzled into existence mere inches away from my face. It then occurred to me that I was actually getting shot. The match had hardly begun and I was already getting hit! What difficulty was this artificial intelligence on? Extreme?

There were no bullets being fired, but the virtual enemies also relied on infrared sensors for hit detection and my personal shield generator linked with the game's network to detect the incoming beams and reacted accordingly, which was to simulate the effect of being hit by a bullet without it actually hurting me. There was a little readout on my wrist that told me just how much energy my shields had left – they recharged on their own after a few seconds of inactivity, so I needed to find cover.

The crackle of gunfire off in the distance was getting closer so I threw myself behind the first obstacle I could find – a backhoe that had sunk into the mud. Josh joined me and hunkered down, similarly panting. It was only now could I get my bearings. Scattered rocks and dust from the floor clung to my pants and shoes, gray and ashy. The entire arena was wrapped with a dark red light, warming and cooling with response to the setting – a volcano as evident by the virtual lava lapping at the edge of the arena. I could make out that the horizon off in the distance was not real, but a series of interconnected panels shaping the stage into a cube, displaying a barren wasteland and a glum looking sky that allowed the sun to peek out in occasional intervals. It was not my mental image of hell, but it was pretty damn close.

I'm not entirely sure that Nazis ever fought a battle within an active volcano, but my memory for such events is not as sharp as I would have liked. Not saying that this scenario was not possible, just that it was unlikely.

"Would have liked to have gone with a tropical setting," Josh mused next to me.

I raised a hand then dropped it, annoyed. "Then why didn't you speak-…forget it. Where's your date?"

Josh pointed and I followed the direction with my eyes. Ludmilla was just standing out in the open, not completely to my surprise. She did not even seem to be interested in picking up her gun, which was still slung across her back, and pointing it at the enemy. In fact, she looked like she was browsing the extranet on her omni-tool, almost like this little exertion was not worth her time or attention and that her social media page was considerably more important.

Life then provided one of those bits of odd comedy where a series of shots then slammed into Ludmilla, knocking her off her feet in surprise. She landed hard on her rear end, making a pained face while rubbing the affected area.

" _Player four_ ," the intercom blared. " _You are out!_ "

"So much for teamwork," I grimaced before I realized something while Ludmilla skulked back to the exit. "Hey, where's Nya?"

Mustering my bravery, I peeked me head around the side of the yellow machinery, following the noises of gun blasts. I saw Nya hunkering behind a series of stone blocks, popping up to deliver short bursts before ducking back down again. Based on the rate of fresh screams coming every time she pulled the trigger, she was hitting her targets again and again. I looked up at the scoreboard and saw that, indeed, she was already five thousand points up while Josh and I were looking at zip.

While I had been looking for Nya though, Josh had decided that he wanted to get in on the action and clumsily ran away to find a good vantage point, leaving me all by my lonesome. I opened my mouth to utter a curse but cut myself off when a tall shape moved around the backhoe, a submachine gun cradled in his arms.

I could recognize the regalia of a Nazi SS officer immediately. It was not hard to discern the jet black uniform, the meticulously polished buttons and war medals, and the bright red swastika on his left arm. His mouth was puckered in a curse and veins protruded on his forehead in an unseemly sight. Even though I had never made a move to shoot someone before, I felt my arms raise my rifle of their own accord. Emotionlessly, I sighted in on the Nazi, the notion that it was just a game overriding my tendency to not kill.

" _Sie sterben jetzt, arschloch!"_ the Nazi screamed, right before my virtual bullets cut his body to ribbons, spraying blood everywhere. As soon as he hit the floor, the Nazi disintegrated into tiny cubes of light, winking out several seconds afterward.

"Same to you, pal!" I growled as I hauled myself to my feet.

Instinctively, I looked up at the clock and found that four minutes had already passed. How could that be? I've only just gotten my first kill and the match was almost half over. Energized, I mustered up a burst of courage and jogged over to the base of a statue depicting a weeping asari. I could see more Nazis streaming out from the entrance to a temple of sorts ahead, so I leveled my rifle and held the trigger down on one continuous burst.

Nothing. All my shots missed as evident by the sparking and chipping away of stone that my imaginary bullets were causing. Frustrated, I ejected the thermal clip and tried again but the recoil to the gun was so bad that my arms had to fight to keep the gun stable which caused my concentration on aiming to slip. I cursed myself each time I missed, which happened to be every time. It was apparent that unless the enemy was at point-blank range, I was woefully untrained to the point where I had no idea of how to handle a gun in a combat scenario.

Up on the next level, I could see a Nazi crouch-walk his way along the railing, a large object perched on his shoulder. He stood up, allowing me to get a glimpse of the _Panzerschreck –_ a rocket launcher – he was now aiming in my direction. I had no idea what kind of effect a rocket would do to me in this environment but I was not usually the one to get shot just to find out what it felt like.

"You've got to be fucking kidding-," I tried to say as I darted away before the rocket barreled into the spot I had occupied just seconds before. Planted speakers and strobe lights blinded and deafened me while air jets in the ground created plumes of dust, simulating the effect of a rocket strike. Blinded and temporarily deaf, I staggered around the remains of a tank and sagged against the treads, trying to catch my breath.

The soldier, now sporting a pistol in lieu of his heavy equipment, ran around the other side of the tank, his head swiveling in all directions to see where I had went. He completely glossed over the position where I had been crouching, however, allowing me the perfect moment to put half a clip into his body. He dropped with an exaggerated scream and I gave a smirk. There's patriotic duty for you.

Guns cracked and fresh shouts filled the air. I peeked over the nearby barrier to see a slew of enemies over in the center of the arena drop to the ground, holes smoking right through their clothes. Just ten meters away from where I was, Nya had positioned herself in a crouch, her body behind a fortified barricade as she used as few shots as possible while managing to hit almost all the targets that ran out in front of her. She was making me look like a dumb redneck by the way she was deftly handling her weapon. Just beyond, I could see Josh attempting to do the same, not as successfully, but he was getting more hits than I was, as evident by the scoreboard. Either he was luckier or just overall better at shooting than me.

A Nazi with a shotgun vaulted the gate, giving him a fresh shot at my back. Can't they give me time to rest?! With a shout, I dove off to the side, scraping my stomach rather painfully on the scuffed ground. I had no time to roll on my back and get my gun into position so I was preparing to flee some more when I heard the chatter of rapid fire, but my shields did not flare angrily. I turned just in time to see the bloodied Nazi fall, downed from three shots to the chest. Numbly, I caught Nya's gaze and she gave me a cheerful wave.

How odd that we were acting this way. If this was a real battle there would be more blood, cursing, and overall panic. Here, it's like war was a joke to us, allowing us to suspend our disbelief for such a heavy subject. War is hell, but in this room it was all smiles. Suddenly, I knew why the Mass Effect universe implemented guns so much into their society: everyone was already desensitized to violence. Guess too many violent video games _does_ make a difference.

The timer showed that the match was almost up and I panicked. I wanted to get another kill to at least bump my score up a bit, but I could find no enemies to fire upon. Frustrated, I resorted to the wise tactic of standing up from cover and running around the map, looking to surprise any enemies with my blazing guns. I stole up some shallow steps and began to run the perimeter, my eyes searching to and fro for any more wayward Nazis.

One Nazi suddenly sprung up from behind a cracked buttress and hustled over to the far wall away from my position. I brought my rifle up so that I could look through the scope, but it was all but useless as I continued to miss, even when the man was traveling in a straight line. I slowed my breathing and let the gun move naturally at the speed the target was traveling. The crosshairs timidly lined up with the Nazi's frontal lobe and my hand brushed the trigger, ready to lightly squeeze it.

Then a harsh bang ripped through the air, not emitting from my rifle. Through my scope, I saw the Nazi fly sideways, a hole having punched itself through what now remained of his head. The buzzer dinged as the match ended, but I barely heard it. While the announcer was declaring the participants to meet back up at the arena entrance, I followed the trajectory from which the Nazi had been propelled by the sheer force of the bullet with my eyes. As I saw the most likely position from which the shot had been fired, Nya stood up, having previously been out of sight, and I could not help but laugh.

Ludmilla had already exited the stage, bored by the day's events. Josh ran up to me and gave me a high-five, his face flushed with excitement.

"Out-fucking-standing!" he laughed as he punched the air in victory. "Oh man, that was fun! If that weren't so goddamn expensive I'd do this again! Woo!" He did a little jig before clapping his hands in his enthusiasm. "I think I had you there, Sam! Consider yourself beat by… _moi_! Josh Kinney!"

I let Josh's braggadocio run its course as I looked up at the scoreboard mildly. Sure enough, Josh had beat me. Quite handily, as a matter of fact. I had only scored two thousand and three hundred points while Josh had more than four thousand points lit up next to his name on the board. Well, at least I was not stone dead last. That honor belonged to Ludmilla, with a pitiful zero points for no shots fired. No participation trophies to be given out here, sadly for her.

"I'm not going to argue with you there," I said in amusement as Nya now walked up to us – to me, specifically. "But I'd hold off on the jubilation until you see the rankings for yourself."

Josh blinked and looked upward. "What…the…" he mumbled in astonishment, craning his neck as far as it could go. He had apparently failed to take notice of the fact that, while he had outscored me, the both of us had soundly been trounced by Nya, who had managed to accrue a whopping fifteen thousand points – more than both our scores combined. The color drained from Josh's face and I gave Nya a warm smile and an appreciative squeeze of the shoulder – drawing her close in a half-embrace, to which she happily melted into.

"Well," I chuckled, "I'd say that the results speak for themselves. I'm a terrible shot, you're not much better, Josh, and Nya's combat training makes her the most useful in a firefight while having to carry our sorry asses around."

"Maybe if you took some shooting lessons…" Nya added impishly.

"I'll be sure to put that on my agenda," I said breezily. "So, I don't know about any of you, but I'm completely worn out. As technically the loser, since Ludmilla has apparently left the building, I'm willing to treat everyone to a round of drinks. Does that sound good to you guys?"

"You kidding?" Josh panted. "I'm going to die of thirst unless I get something to drink."

"Quit your bitching. I'll take that as a yes, then. Nya?"

"Count me in," she said wholeheartedly before she whispered so that Josh could not hear. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

"I wasn't trying to," I said as we exited through the dim, blue hallway. "That's the _last_ thing I want right now."

* * *

If I was not lazy or eager to find a place to procure a few drinks, I probably would not have settled on a dance club as an establishment to enter. The music that pumped through the doors and spilled out into the streets was bass heavy, as usual, and the frequency of the beats and hits told me that it primarily featured electronic music and not soft jazz. Alas, there was no whiskey lounge in close proximity to the arena and no one was feeling particularly picky at the moment, so the club would just have to do.

I paid the cover fees for both me and Nya, leaving Josh to take care of himself. Ludmilla had suspiciously booked it after we had returned our weapons from the game, but if Josh was upset, he did not show it. Once inside, the three of us were bombarded by a wall of sound and multicolored lights spinning all over the floor, igniting in time to whatever dross the DJ was spinning up on the turntables – a figure of speech as there was no DJ and the entire playlist was most likely completely automated.

Josh, as expected, started writhing his body to the music almost immediately upon entering and began to moonwalk over to the dance floor, winking at a bunch of young ladies who were too drunk to dismiss his sleazy moves as acts of a desperate man. While he was reeling in his catch, I turned to Nya, noting that she was beginning to bounce up and down to the beat as well.

"I'm going to get the drinks. Want anything?"

"Not really sure what they have to offer," Nya considered. "I tried something with dextro-rum about a year ago when I came to a place like this and that was tasty. I'll leave it up to you."

"Dextro rum," I repeated, committing the ingredient to memory. "I'll do my damnedest to see that I don't get you anything with levo stuff in it, then."

"That would be best, considering the alternative would poison me," Nya clucked. "You going to dance afterward?"

That gave me a start. Unless the music had drowned out part of her words for me to interpret, that was definitely an invitation for me to dance with her. Why else would she ask in a _dance club_ of all places? I was leaning heavily to one side on the tightrope and I was seriously considering just giving up and falling at this point.

"We're at a club, after all," I said smoothly, not saying 'yes' straight out. "But I want to get a drink first otherwise I'll be self-conscious of how I look for the entire night."

"In this place?" the quarian chided with a roll of her eyes. "No one's going to care if you dance poorly or not. They're all either too drunk or dancing terribly anyway."

"Be that as it may, I'm drinking first."

Nya playfully shook her head and waved at me to go on while she headed to the dance floor. I watched her as she left, observing at a distance at the people who began to look at her suspiciously. Apparently some patrons were uneasy about having a quarian in their midst but as soon as they could see that Nya did not mean for any trouble, they all either went back to their drinks or to dancing. Nya disappeared behind a flock of young turians and I wondered if I should follow her, but I decided to leave her be. I'd rather not be hovering over her like a concerned parent.

Pushing my way past the drunkards and the crammed tables, I finally reached the bartender and held up my hand to grab his attention. "One Quad Kicker and a Dextro Heat Sink," I said. "I'll also take a shot of the eighteen year old scotch, if you have it." I set up a tab with the bartender and he bustled off to make the drinks. I sat down on one of the plush chairs at the counter and tapped my fingers until the man next to me set his glass down harshly with a loud clang.

I twisted my body to the side and was somehow unsurprised to see the glowering visor of Vhen right next to me, a straw poking over the lip of his drink. It looked like he had been here for a while and based on how much of his cocktail he had already consumed, he was most likely drunk by now. None of us spoke for the longest time, most likely because we were expecting the other to say the first word.

I decided to be the one to initiate. "The hell are _you_ doing here? Can't I go five minutes without seeing you all over this station?"

"I'm a free individual," Vhen snorted, hunched over the counter. "I can go wherever I want."

"Well, had I known you were skulking here, I would have picked a different location to drink." The bartender set down my shot of scotch and I drained it in a fluid motion. The alcohol burned its way down my throat and I smacked my lips, grimacing only momentarily.

Vhen had not taken his eyes off me the entire time. "You really want me to hate you, don't you?"

"You're one to talk. Ever since we first met you've always hated me. I'm just returning the favor." God, I really hoped the bartender worked fast because I wanted to grab the rest of my drinks and get the hell away from this man.

"You're doing an _admirable_ job, then," Vhen scowled. He toyed with his straw for a bit before blinking slowly. "I can see how she looks at you, you know."

"Don't start," I grumbled while I dismissively waved my hand. "Not now."

The quarian ignored me, obviously wanting to say his piece. "There is no other time for it. You…are an enraging human. Why do you consistently persist in courting Nya? Is it to spite me? Is that what all this is about? I distinctly remember warning you the last time to back off from her or I'll-,"

"You know," I interrupted, making sure that my voice was full of venom, "if I wanted to hear what you had to say, I'd just record myself taking a shit and listen to that on playback. To dumb it down to your language: why don't you _shut the fuck up?_ Clearly you still are too idiotic to realize that it is not a courting, what I'm doing, but merely sharing time between friends. You are just an impulsive and paranoid brat that likes to jump to conclusions without even analyzing the situation."

No way was I going to admit to Vhen's face that he was only partially right, though. There was some truth to his statements, buried underneath the crap. I had no time to worry about that – I needed to take care of this asshole first.

"You know nothing about me!" Vhen declared hotly.

I sighed and spread my hands. "I can explain it to you; I can't _understand_ it for you."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?"

"Must have flown over your head since you had to ask. I'll have to send my apologies to your mother and to advise her not to use a plastic hangar for the next time. Did you get _that_ one, Captain Blowhard?"

I honestly thought Vhen would explode from rage by now. He shot up out of his chair and tried to tower menacingly over me, but all he looked like to me was a toddler trying to appear tough by puffing out his chest. I could not help smiling, knowing that it was angering him even more.

"I…told…you…" Vhen fiercely pointed. "I told you to not come near Nya. I told you that I had feelings for her and yet you still ignored me. I thought I had made it clear that I would hurt you should you ever come into her life again, because that's just what _you're_ going to do to her. She doesn't need a human – she needs to be with her own people lest she wants to be a meager shuttle pilot for the rest of her life. She has a better future with me, not you."

Despite the man's threatening words, my face remained blank throughout his rant. At the end, I gave a lazy yawn and tried to look disinterested. "You done?" I asked.

" _Kraav al'turthen bosh'tet!_ " Vhen cursed, his hands flexing like they were about to lunge for my throat. Amazing what dispassionate responses to passionate diatribes cause.

"I've been called worse things by better people. Look, Vhen, I don't get how you expect me to just accept the drivel that just spouts out of your mouth, especially after the fact that a year and a half has passed since we last 'spoke.' You assaulted me and threatened to kill me back then. Forgive me if I'm not really inclined to take you seriously after that childish outburst of yours. Furthermore, you had all that time to make your move on Nya, which considering how she felt about you back then, you never had a chance. Now, you still delude yourself into believing that you're pursuing her affections when clearly, her interest is in no way aimed at you. Heh, and you're still treating her like garbage to boot, only compounding your problems in your quest for a suitable mate. I know because Nya has told me this. She and I probably have talked more in the past year than you ever have to her in your entire life. _Wake the fuck up_ , you stupid man, and accept that you will never be with Nya. Maybe then I'll start to take you seriously."

A light clink of glass on stone caused both of our attentions to be drawn away involuntarily. The bartender had finally arrived with my drinks. We both resumed our staring contest, our movements slow and calculated, plotting our next moves.

"I meant what I said," the quarian growled. "I _will_ hurt you."

I gave a slight tilt of my head. If he wanted fisticuffs, then I could be willing to oblige. "Loads of people get in fights in places like this. I've got time to indulge you. Go ahead, kid. Take your best shot."

Vhen's arm stuttered for one critical moment, unknowingly giving away his intent. Making his decision in an instant, his fists lunged to strike at my chest, but I was ready for him. I raised my arm up and brought them down hard, knocking the quarian's blows away from my center of mass. He looked up, startled. I don't think he was actually expecting me to fight back, like it had occurred back on the _Xannos_. For the first time, _I_ had the upper hand in a fistfight. I just needed to make sure that I kept up the momentum.

The quarian stepped in and tried another fearsome blow, but despite his combat training, my natural human strength provided me ample protection in countering his moves. His blow just glanced off my arm after I had thrown it up to protect my face. I could have taken a swipe at his head, but I intentionally held off, wanting him to know that I could kill him at a moment's notice. Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, as the saying goes.

There was a huge gap in Vhen's defenses as he came in for another attack, brought on from his complete cockiness. Seizing the moment, I clenched my fist and sank it into the quarian's gut in a powerful blow. Perfect contact – I must have created a sizable indent in the man's body. I was nowhere close to being even with that hit, but it was a solid start. Vhen doubled over, wheezing, and I roughly shoved him to put some distance between me and him, causing him to sag against a nearby table. As much as I wanted to hurt him some more, I kept my rage on a leash. No shame in bowing out of a fight while I was ahead. Mistakes happen all the time in fights and, despite my utter hatred of the man, I hoped that Vhen's anger would burn itself out quickly, leaving him no choice but to make a tactical retreat.

Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case because Vhen reached across the table and hefted an empty beer bottle. My eyes widened in shock. I knew the kind of wounds a broken bottle could cause and I was not keen on receiving several hundred deep cuts caused by sharp glass. Where were the bouncers when I needed them? My pistol was still hidden under my jacket – should I use it?

Just then, a figure burst out from the crowd that had formed a circle around us, deftly plucked the bottle from Vhen's hands and threw it on the ground, shattering it. The entire bar grew deathly quiet as the new arrival faced Vhen in a hurry. I was just glad that I was not in Nya's crosshairs, the look she was giving alone would have melted glaciers.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?!" Nya shouted at Vhen, her eyes sparking fury.

"He started it!" Vhen pointed an accusatory finger at me, to my complete disbelief. "The human goaded me into fighting like he did last time and- OW!"

Nya quickly whirled and hit Vhen in the abdomen. It wasn't a delicate tap, but a fierce punch that left Vhen grasping at his stomach in pain.

"You're really going to lie to me?" Nya whispered. "When I saw the entire thing play out? _Keelah_ , Vhen, you must think I'm an idiot."

"Never…" Vhen coughed. "Nya…"

" _Don't_ ," Nya seethed. "I've had to put up with your bullshit for too long now, Vhen. Don't you think it's a little suspect when you've gotten into two fights with Sam and have proceeded to blame him each time? You always whine when you don't get what you want and I'm tired of hearing it. I _know_ he didn't start the first fight. I _know_ he didn't start this one. The only variable that causes conflict here is _you_ , Vhen."

I don't think I could have been happier for Nya than I was right now. I wanted to hug her so badly but kept my emotions neutral. Right now, it was satisfying seeing Vhen being taken down a couple notches.

"You…can't…" the man begged before looking at me with hate. "The human has _feelings_ for you! I am trying to _protect_ you, Nya! You cannot trust-,"

Vhen was not allowed to continue because Nya angrily stepped forward and hurled a punch directly into the side of his helmet. The force behind the impact was so powerful that it snapped the man's head to the side and caused him to fall down in a daze. Damn, that looked like it hurt. I gave a low whistle, impressed. Someone in the back whooped and started clapping. Vhen curled into a ball pathetically while Nya glowered above him.

"Get…out," she seethed. "I don't need protection, least of all from you. I hate you and I will never trust you even if my life depended on it."

With a sinister hiss, I saw Vhen's arm reach down and pull a glinting object from his boot. The very shape of the knife caused shrieks of alarm from the people surrounding the scuffle – and Nya was within striking distance. I was about to utter a warning, but she looked down just in time to see the weapon being unsheathed, and stamped down hard on the man's wrist with her thick boot. Vhen yowled in pain and dropped the knife. Nya kicked it away for it to be lost in the maze of legs. I gently grabbed her shoulders and eased her backwards, so that I would be closer to provide backup in case Nya needed it.

You fucked up, Vhen. We finally caught you in the act.

Stumbling shakily to his feet and clutching his wounded wrist, Vhen appraised Nya and me with long looks, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat. He saw my scowl and Nya's fury, finally realizing that his fantasy was but wishful thinking. Broken, he gave a shout of defeat. "Then," he said breathily as looked at the ground, "your bed has been made. Have it your way, Nya." Finally breaking eye contact, he turned and headed out the door, his tail between his legs. We watched him leave with fire rising in our hearts. I could not help but feel smug.

The crowd dissipated to join back in the dancing, and Nya slowly turned to face me. All I could do was shrug and gave a look that practically said, ' _Well, what are you going to do?_ '

"I think…" Nya said. "I think I'll take that drink now."

Wordlessly, I accompanied her back over to the bar and we sat down. I took the seat Vhen had occupied while Nya took mine. We drained our drinks quickly and sat oddly still while the rest of the place burst to life around us.

Seeing that Nya was oddly distant when she had been full of energy just a few minutes ago, I reached over and held her hand for support. "I know that must have been hard. Thank you for stepping in before things could get any worse."

Nya gave a dry laugh. "I guess I saved _you_ this time, eh? Told you that you wouldn't be able to hold that against me for very long." There was a sparkle in her eye, giving me an indication that she was slowly becoming her old self again. "Ah, I'm so sorry about Vhen. His behavior was…unacceptable."

"Don't apologize for him," I said sternly. "The guy just needs to grow up sooner or later. Heh, at least I finally landed a punch on him. He will be thinking twice about hurting me again, I bet."

"Same for me," Nya raised her fist teasingly. "I've wanted to do that for a long time." She put her arm down and looked around, now seemingly realizing the place that she was in. She pushed her empty glass away and sighed. "I don't really feel like dancing anymore."

"Neither do I, but I'm still up for hanging out if you want."

"Oh, I do want that very much. It's just…I kind of would prefer someplace a little less lively now. I'm not feeling all that comfortable with these crowds around."

I had an idea and snapped my fingers. "The night is still young. We can make a quick stop at my apartment and figure out what we want to do there. Much less stressful of an environment."

Nya perked up at that and I had a feeling that she was smiling.

"Well, when are we going to go?"

Checking to see if there was anything left of my drink before pushing it aside for the bartender to clean, I indicated in the direction of the door. "Now, if you want." We hopped off our stools and as we made for the exit, I clapped Nya on the shoulder as I had a bit of a brain wave. "I'll let _you_ fly us there."

"F-Fly?" Nya said, stumped. "Wait…huh? Fly what?"

* * *

 **A/N: Kept you waiting, huh?**

 **At 14K+ words, this is definitely the largest chapter I've ever written - and it features Nya, which is what a lot of people have been wanting. Hopefully this ticks all the boxes for you. I'm looking forward to what you guys thought of the reunion between Sam and Nya. They seem to get on suspiciously well, don't they?**

 **Keep an eye out for the next chapter - I have a sneaking suspicion that you might like it! As to when it'll be completed, that entirely depends on how much coffee I have on hand around my place.**


	15. Chapter 15: Spur - Lust

In retrospect, there was no way for me to predict what was going to happen when I figuratively and literally handed Nya the keys to my Cuval ship. To put it in perspective, that's like handing over the keys to a Ferrari to someone that I really have barely met. I'm not sure what my thought process there was; to indulge Nya in a childhood dream or to mitigate the risk of me flying while drunk. I knew that she would undoubtedly geek out once she situated herself behind the controls and I still had no inkling of what to expect by the time I managed to stuff myself into the backseat – a place I had never ventured on board my own ship until now. It was not very roomy and I began to get a cramp in my thighs – you pay more for less amenities. Damn vehicle companies always find a way to screw you over.

It was a short jaunty over to the next arm where my apartment was, but it felt like it took a damn hour to reach it – not from how slow Nya was flying the ship, but for how furiously she maneuvered it in a way to make we want to get out. The adrenaline that surged through me did a good job of making every second torturously slow, almost if I could physically sense time scraping by at a snail's pace. Unable to resist the allure, Nya had put the Cuval through a series of flips and rolls, maneuvering between pylons and walkways while whooping in glee. I must have had my eyes shut for about half the damn ride. My stomach was doing flip-flops inside of me and my vision grayed out at one point when Nya deliberately disabled the acceleration dampeners as she gave the thrusters a burst. The g-forces pressed my body down into the gel-filled seat, but she backed off in her maneuvers before my rib cage could collapse and crush my soft organs. The rest of the ride had me in a daze, listless until we had docked at the appropriate Citadel arm.

Minutes later, I staggered into my apartment like I had been doped while in contrast, Nya just hopped on in cheerfully. I bustled to the kitchen to fix myself a glass of water while Nya looked around my place enviously.

"I don't think you needed to do that many barrel rolls," I muttered hoarsely.

Nya chuckled. "Not my fault you have a weak stomach. I daresay that I had only used a fraction of what that Cuval had in it."

"Glad you didn't subject me to the full might then. I don't want to be cleaning my own puke up from the interior of my own ship."

Nya rolled her eyes playfully, somewhat exasperated at the fact that I had nearly passed out from her flying when she could probably handle the stress several times over. It was clear that Nya had the physicality and mental acuity of a fighter pilot while I was just an amateur flaunting my wealth by buying an expensive ship that I had no business of owning in the first place. I guess there was no other word for it: I was a poseur, in many different ways.

The quarian walked over to her media station and tenderly brushed the black glass of my stereo, admiring the lighted buttons that ignited from her presence. "You _live_ here?" she asked me as I was filling a cup from the tap.

I drained the glass about halfway, my head clearing instantaneously. "Yeah," I said rather sheepishly. It almost felt wrong to bring her here. Compared to her paltry cot on board her ship, the apartment was a palace. I now realized that I was probably showing off to her, making an exhibition of what I had that she did not. "But believe it or not," I defended, wanting to downplay everything, "it's actually one of the smaller apartments on the Citadel."

Technically I was right. With only two bedrooms, a single bathroom, and a kitchen/living room combo, the apartment was indeed on the small side for what was considered amply sized – in terms of available square feet. On the other hand, the furnishings and location in this particular complex were the reason why my rates happened to be more costly, but in no way was I going to mention that to Nya. Individuals who brandish the fact of how wealthy they are turn into different people over time – greedy, selfish people - and they will start to be treated differently by their peers. If I kept my financial status on the down-low and I could just be a regular guy to everyone else.

Nya flopped down on the couch, giving a grateful sigh. She prodded the firm leather with a slender finger. "If I lived here," she said, "and if I had no responsibilities, I would never leave."

I polished off my water and gave a dry chuckle. "You would get bored within a week," I told her, fully knowing from experience. "There's more to life than just wasting away on a couch, watching crappy shows on the extranet."

Turning around on the couch, Nya made eye contact with me. "Is that why you became a doctor? To fill up whatever free time you had?"

"That's partly the reason," I said as I sat beside her, pausing a bit so that I could get in the most comfortable position. I had brought another glass of water over with me, just to iron out the last remnant of motion sickness. "I became a doctor because it's what I went to school for. The skills that I were taught gave me a clear indication on what I should do as a career. Plus, I need income to sustain myself and – speaking from stereotypes – doctors tend to make insane amounts of money which was one of the reasons why I chose to pursue that avenue."

Damn it. I practically told Nya that my reasoning for choosing a career was partially driven by greed. That's certainly going to help her judge my character after a quick analysis.

Thankfully, Nya did not seem to want to delve into my reasoning any deeper, nor did she seem keen on listing out all of the particular accoutrements that came with my apartment, like my entire media center and the few pieces of random artwork that I bought online to at least prevent the place from looking threadbare.

"Quarians don't really have a need for money all that much on the flotilla," Nya said after she finished taking a final glance around the place. "Our system is mostly all automated and set up so that all of the members are treated as equally as possible – financially speaking."

"How does that work exactly?"

"Well, our housing is determined by the habitation board, who specifically takes records of all of the space available on ships to board quarians with reasonable comfort, so there's that aspect. Everyone gets roughly the same portion of food during meals, with special accommodations being made for people who need additional calories or admirals of the fleet. Job assignments are fostered after initial examinations during our youth, so we are guided into our roles as soon as we are deemed able. Everything is provided for us by the fleet itself so there is no real need for us to use currency within the flotilla on a regular basis."

I took a thoughtful sip of my glass. "Kind of reminds me of an old form of government some humans used on Earth called communism. Basically, for communists their economy was based upon human needs and not private profits. That was the theory, at least. The idea was to decrease the gap between the bourgeoisie – the middle class - and the proletariat – the working class - by having the production of goods set at a level that could avoid class struggle and any excess."

Nya considered that for a moment. "Hmm. So humans have sampled a partial system of our own government in the past, then. I had no idea you were so varied. What happened to these…communists?"

"Well," I stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall my world history classes. "For the country that embraced communism the most prominently at the time, the gap between classes worsened to such a point to where the rich were living in lavish comfort while the vast majority had to stand in lines outside of supermarkets for just a loaf of bread. The communist system turned out to be completely broken and corrupt, causing the population to suffer while other countries thrived from their differing forms of government. The communist economy worsened and eventually the government was dissolved in favor of adopting capitalism, proving that while the theory had merit, certain circumstances set communism up to fail completely."

"Oh. I guess humans didn't quite figure it out, huh?"

"Not really. The theory of communism might work, but it needs a lot of set parameters in place for it to properly be a foundation for a society. I don't really think that your society would be considered a communistic society, Nya, but as it stands, it comes pretty close and from what I've seen, you've managed to make it work a lot better than humans ever have."

"I guess," Nya said as she began to pinch at the leather of the couch. "I mean, quarians don't really have many personal possessions, and it's not like we know we can drastically improve our living conditions – we have to take what's available on the flotilla. A place like this," she spread her arms wide to indicate my apartment, "would be unthinkable for just one quarian to own on the fleet. The admirals only live in a room smaller than your bedroom, for example. Also, since we don't need money for any additional items, all of our transactions within the fleet is done on a requisition system – based on a system of need, but we sometimes have to barter for items if we don't want to go through proper channels to get them. The few times we do use credits is when we engage in procurement with differing races – we just save our income otherwise."

I had propped my head up while my arm was on the armrest of the couch, giving Nya a wry smile. She saw it and tilted her head quizzically.

"What?" she asked earnestly. "Was it something I said?"

"Nothing," I quickly assured. "It's just that in my experience, whenever the conversations turn to politics, attitudes get really heated and people start to shout."

"But…we're _not_ shouting."

"That's why I'm smiling. I guess I'm just not used to talking about topics in such a measured manner. Granted, we haven't broached any controversial issues today but the point still stands."

"Oh? And what would be some of these 'controversial issues' then?"

I tutted and waggled my finger mockingly. "No, no. We're not going there. I like you too much to get into an acrimonious dispute with you, especially for something so meaningless and trivial in the grand scheme of things."

Nya crossed her arms, almost seeming disappointed. But I could tell from the tilt of her head and the impish look in her eyes that she was amused, not miffed. "We might cross that bridge eventually, Sam. Who knows? I like you enough to actually trust that you'll have a pleasant conversation with me about the issues we face today."

"That's…actually a mature way of putting it," I pointed out, very impressed with her logic. "Someday I guess I'll hold you to that. But still, an intelligent conversation concerning politics, whoever could have guessed? Hell hath surely frozen over."

Nya gave my arm a playful poke. "Maybe you just need to talk to more intelligent people. Unlike…"

She suddenly broke off and stared at the blank vidscreen, embarrassed.

"What were you going to say?" I asked.

"N-Nothing," she shook her head in a panic. "It was going to be rude. I probably shouldn't say anything."

"You? Rude?" I resisted the urge to bark in laughter. "That'll be the day. No, go on, be honest. What did you want to say?"

Nya flirted with hesitation, as evident by how her eyes were scanning all over the place like she could draw inspiration from an object conveniently lying around the living room. It was interesting just how much emotion one person could convey with just their eyes – Nya being helmeted really forced me to examine those little tics in detail and I could know what she was feeling by her eyes alone. "I was going to say," she sighed, "or more like comment, that your friend, Josh, is very far off from your personality, and yet the two of you are good friends. What I mean is that the comments that he made did not give me the impression that he was rather well-spoken. Crude and at times overbearing. It's...he just doesn't strike me as the sort of person that could operate on your level."

Now I could not resist laughing. Nya could be so polite that she really did fear for offending me. That was rather endearing, considering that she just gave me a very high complement. "Don't worry, Nya. You can talk about things like that in front of me. Yes, to put it bluntly, Josh is a bit of an idiot, but he's got a good heart and a rather infectious personality depending on how long you spend around him. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows where his strengths lie and sometimes it's just good to be exposed to people who reside just outside your comfort level. He's got some good material for conversation every once in a while but he's just someone that I can handle on occasion and not every day."

"Then where do I rank, Sam?" Nya asked mischievously. "Do I reside outside your comfort level?"

Now that was a trap question if I ever heard one. Even I was not obtuse enough to notice the sultry inflection in the quarian's tone and the fact that she had been slowly shifting her body closer to mine the entire time we'd been sitting on the couch just added more fuel to my suspicions. Hell, I don't even think I could call them suspicions for they were just one small declaration away from being confirmed. The crazy part was that I continued to entertain this – that I secretly wanted to know how far things would go despite my tendency to be a selfish asshole.

I had to choose my next words carefully. Precision was the key here.

"Of course," I blurted out immediately. "There's never been a doubt in my mind that I'm at my most comfortable when I'm with you."

Apparently I blundered at being careful. How classic was that? I might as well show her where the metaphorical pinball machine was after that pathetic utterance.

Shutting my trap, my brain searched for ways on how I could segue this conversation onto another topic. I was not ready for this yet, other things had to be done to ease my mind onto this path otherwise I would most likely make a gigantic mistake that I would regret for a long time.

Nya seemed struck by the declaration, albeit in a pleasant way. "Thank you, Sam. It probably goes without saying but…I've never been as comfortable with anyone except you too."

"I'm glad for that," I gave a meek shrug. "After all, you've always operated at my level and more."

For crying out loud, I'm not even drunk anymore and I'm saying these things without any inkling of the potential consequences. I looked away, fidgeting in my seat, as I tried to search for a witty line or _something_ to distract me from these new thoughts. Before the pause between us could grow any more pregnant, I abruptly stood up and walked over to the fridge, bringing that last line of dialogue crashing to a halt. I opened the fridge, knowing that there was nothing in it that I wanted, as a way to buy myself some time while Nya longingly watched me from the couch. Sooner or later, I knew that I was going to have to return to my seat.

Stepping away from the fridge, I gave a timid laugh and a limp motion from my arms. "Hey…uh, was there anything else that you wanted to do while you were on the Citadel, Nya?"

She gave a small shrug. "Nothing that I can think of," she answered, further damning me to my fate.

"Right," I muttered before I gave up in resisting and returned back to my seat, back to the same distance apart from Nya as when I had stood up. "I don't know about you but I'm hungry again. If you don't mind, I was going to order some food while we kill time around here. You want me to order you anything? I haven't got anything dextro on me so I'll have to order something for you if you want it. I'm paying and you can't change my mind about that."

"That sounds perfect," Nya said as she ignited her omni-tool. "I'll just send you over what I think looks good. I might even order some dextro wine while I'm at it."

Food _and_ wine? If I did not know better, I'd say that Nya was looking to bring back that atmosphere that we had sampled in the restaurant together; just the feeling of us being the only two people of importance in a room filled with nobodies while we drank, talked, and laughed together. After the hectic nature of the dance club, I was more than willing to go along with this. Besides, I could do with some food in my stomach anyway. Might as well have company over while I checked that box.

Also, since it seemed like Nya was keen on staying here instead of trying to go out again, I thought that it might be best if we could watch a movie while we ate our dinners. That was the prodigal image of what hanging out at home was, so I might as well follow that script to the letter. Besides, I would get to see Nya's reaction to the human customs for entertaining guests – she had been pretty adventurous up to this point. Interestingly, that would prove to be a whole other can of worms, though.

* * *

Out of all the billions of movies available legally and illegally at my disposal, this film probably would not have cracked my top half on my queue of things to watch next. But, Nya was insistent the second that I admitted that I had never seen the film in question before and she was determined to sit me down so that I could watch it, even if it meant taping me to the couch and physically forcing my eyelids open (cue the Beethoven). I didn't put up much of an argument, as I was ambivalent on my own preferences of what to watch, and Nya was ecstatic in comparison to the film of her choice. She had more of a right to twist my arm than I could to her, so I had no choice but to go along.

While I might have preferred an action film or a well-directed thriller, _Fleet and Flotilla_ was none of those things. It was a romance film (definitely not my personal preference) that barely skirted the border between schlock and trash in terms of how it handled its characters and the overall dialogue. How this film won any awards was beyond me. According to Nya, all young quarian females had to view this film as a rather unofficial rite of passage, mostly because one of the main characters was a quarian female which gave the youngsters a role model to imprint upon. Young women do love their romance films, no matter the species.

Truthfully, I was actually rolling with the punches and even getting into the film a little bit myself for at least the first fifteen minutes. That all changed when the leads began to sing. Where had this come from? No one told me that this was a musical and now I was stuck listening to cheesy ballads that just expanded the film's running time instead of making realistic conversation between the main characters. Nya was humming the melodies to herself beside me, taking a few glances and chuckling at my astounded face.

At least I had food to stuff my face with to distract me from the film somewhat. I had ordered Chinese food (the other races just called it 'human' food on the Citadel) and was slurping up a package of lo mein and dumplings while Nya enjoyed another food tube of flavorful meats and vegetables. Both of us were drinking wine - I felt pressured into drinking something since Nya had a tube of the stuff delivered to the house. I had cracked open a merlot that I had sitting around the house, pretty much conceding that there would not be a better time in a while for me to drink my stash in a social setting. I knew that a merlot does not go with Chinese food at all but I could not give a damn. I owned the wine and I could drink it whenever I damn well pleased!

The movie had moved on to one of its more iconic scenes, which was on a balcony overlooking the Citadel Presidium. The quarian lead was facing the turian male lead and the cinematography as well as the lighting made it obvious that this was supposed to be a romantic moment.

" _But Shalei_ ," the turian, Bellicus, was saying, " _we can never be together. I have my duty and you have your people._ "

" _Not tonight_ ," Shalei said with complete confidence. " _Tonight I'm as free as the dust in the solar wind._ "

I had to cover my face with a pillow to prevent me from laughing so loud before I could elicit annoyed glances from Nya. I sincerely hoped the awards this film won were not for its writing, because this was some of the most clichéd and utterly dumb dialogue that I had encountered in a while. The atrocious acting was not doing the screenplay any favors and whatever emotion that managed to slip out from the manufactured script seemed stilted and robotic. How I longed for the days when acting seemed natural on the silver screen and people actually endeavored to make great films.

The scene actually worsened when the two broke out into song once more. Only this time, it seemed like the song just pasted some lame lyrics on top of an already popular and anachronistic orchestral piece recorded several years previously. My mind helped skim the nonsensical lyrics to the point where the words just went in one ear and out the other. The quarian actress (or whoever was dubbing her) seemed to go off kilter on the last note, cracking ever so slightly, and I made a muffled noise of amusement.

"Shh," Nya nudged me. "The best part is coming up."

Still snorting into the pillow, I missed the last few sentences shared between the leads and looked up just in time to see the turian pull away the mask of the quarian on the screen, causing Nya to make a sigh of longing as the lovers finally kissed. I was surprised that this film could make the bold move to actually expose a quarian's face, knowing the dangers involved. From what I heard, the actress had received an infection from this for at least three weeks, but at least the director had gotten his shot in.

After that scene had ended, I set the pillow down and moved to let my arms rest at my sides. Only when I lowered my left hand, it landed upon another – draped in the rubbery texture of an enviro-suit. I almost looked down in alarm, but I held back, not wanting to make my reaction too noticeable. There was a tangible reaction from Nya as well – a very slight jump up her arm. It was only now that I realized that she had been scooting her body closer to mine inch by inch throughout the entire movie. A smile coming to my face as I decided to throw caution to the winds (the wine probably played a part into my capacity to make decisions) and closed the distance in one movement so that our hips were now touching.

Nya's concentration towards the film evaporated vanished when she felt my body at her side and she looked at me in wonder as I interlocked our hands together. Three fingers against five. Her grip gradually clenched and unclenched, testing how pliable my hand was, and I did the same to her. I noticed that in this light, I could see just slightly beyond the smoky barrier of Nya's visor, now able to view the faint outline of what appeared to be a nose. I almost considered brushing the side of her helmet with my free hand tenderly, for those eyes of hers had snagged me good and proper, and she was not going to let go of me easily.

Looking down finally, the film going ignored, Nya lifted our joined hands and turned them so that my pinkish appendage was visible to her. Wiggling her fingers in my grip, she studied the intricate bones of my hand, tracing the webbing of my veins beneath the first epidermal layer with a free finger.

Nya made a noise that sounded like 'hmph!' to me. "Humans have too many fingers," she mused out loud. "Whatever do you need an extra two of them for?"

"On the contrary," I responded boisterously. "They provide us additional grip when we pick up objects, plus we can type out more words with ten fingers versus six on a keyboard. If anything, you have too _few_ fingers."

"Well," Nya huffed mischievously, "three fingers should be enough for anyone. I mean, there has to be a point of diminishing returns with regards to how much grip you can get with additional fingers on your hands."

"Um, _I'm_ the doctor here, so I think that my medical opinion carries more weight."

"Oh _please_ ," Nya dismissed. "You're an orthopedic surgeon – I remember the official title. You just fix people up through arthroscopy, not examine bone structures in detail. Besides, with three fingers, quarians are endowed with a stronger grip. Like so."

"Owwww!" I yowled as Nya squeezed my hand hard. It felt like a vice was clamping down upon the bones and the circulation halted in my appendage in seconds. Nya released my hand with a cheery look and I rubbed at it, hoping that it wasn't bruised. "Point taken," I groused, "but five is good enough for me. Was that really necessary?"

"Probably not, but it was funny, though."

"Yeah, I'm dying of laughter over here," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Okay, so you've presented quite the argument for having a smaller number of fingers, I'll concede. To add to the list of structural gaffes, maybe humans have too many toes, but that problem will be kinked out with evolution if that's the way we're headed."

"Yeah, you need three toes like me!" Nya raised her boot and did her best to wiggle her appendage within the rigid layer. She took my hand again, her grip noticeably less firm.

I raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh really? What's the use for _that_ , then?" I pointed to the diminutive toe on the outside of Nya's feet, noticeably smaller than her other two and looked to be almost useless. "Don't tell me that quarians really _need_ a toe there? What use could it possibly bring?"

Nya looked at her pathetic third toes and back to me, slightly embarrassed. "Shut up," she mumbled, mad that she had let herself into this position. Our hands still remained clenched together, though.

Now that I had the advantage, I was not going to let up in my teasing assault. I then pointed to Nya's bowed legs as a smirk came to my face. "Speaking of weird differences, even though I see you walk with legs like those I'm somewhat astounded that you don't fall down a lot. It may make physical sense but to my eyes it just looks odd."

"Oh yeah?" Nya retorted. "Well, what about _those_ then, huh?" she now gestured to my legs. "Your legs are oriented away from your body while mine are bent directly underneath me. If anything, _your_ style of walking looks weird to me."

"Yeah, but explain why _my_ waist is fuller while yours scrunches up where your small intestine would be. Seriously, there's a gap so wide that I could park a-,"

"Eek!" Nya squealed as my finger prodded her side. She jolted abruptly next to me that she almost tore her hand out of mine, for it was so violent.

"What?" I asked, completely dumbfounded before I understood, mischief taking a hold of me. "You're ticklish?"

Nya looked at me in horror like I had stumbled upon her biggest secret. "Oh, don't you dare, you- _aah!_ "

Nya dissolved into high-pitched laughing as my free hand purposefully dug into her side, tickling her through her suit. She jerked this way and that, trying to break away but I wrapped an arm around her, keeping her close while I relentlessly tortured her. She was shrieking so hard with laughter that she had to take large gulps of air so I finally let up, sparing her further torment.

Clutching at her rising chest, Nya breathed in and out while I chuckled at how she reacted. Guess she could feel more than I thought through her suit, apparently. I was about to make a smart-ass comment when she unexpectedly launched herself at me, her dexterous fingers now digging into my sides. My knee-jerk reaction was to thrash in discomfort as Nya got her revenge and I roared at the nerve of this quarian to tickle me so devilishly. Nya laughed at my face, looking at me purposefully so as to make clear exactly who the boss was. Stronger though I may be, I was rendered useless from Nya's tickling that I began to grow short of breath as well. Arching my back in an attempt to flee, I felt my body began to topple over the side of the couch as I had approached the lip sooner than I expected. At the last moment, I grabbed Nya's shoulders to take her with me, causing her to yelp in panic, but she ended up flopping right on top of me just after I landed on the floor hard on my back – my breath now totally knocked out of me.

"Ow," I groaned while Nya shook her head, still atop me. I feebly twitched on the ground, making slow movements as if I was in tremendous pain.

"Sorry!" Nya apologized earnestly with a shaky laugh. "I'm so sorry, Sam! I-"

Before she knew what was happening, I roped an arm around Nya's midsection and executed a twisting maneuver that now put _her_ on the ground and me hovering over her. My pained expression had vanished for one of victory, the agony having entirely been faked. "You fell for it," I said through a tight grin as I proceeded to tickle her sides mercilessly once more. Nya squealed and her body contorted like a snake but she was in a position where she could do the same to me as well.

Her fingers grabbed at my rib cage desperately and I tried to move away from her long reach, to no avail. I made a strangled noise as my twitching body betrayed me and I tried to pull away. Now fully into it, Nya grabbed at my shirt and bodily yanked me down so that she could tickle me some more.

"Agh!" I yowled, too tangled to extract myself. "All right! Truce! Truce!"

"No way," Nya panted. "You fooled me the last time, _bosh'tet_. I won't stop until I have your complete and unconditional surrender."

She grabbed at a nerve on my thigh and I collapsed onto the quarian, our chests mashed together. I was inches away from her face, no longer tickling her, but she was still determined to draw out every last strand of willpower that I could muster. The woman could drive a hard bargain.

"Okay! Okay! I give! You win! You win! _Enough!_ "

The tickling stopped and relief spread throughout my body. I gasped gratefully, thankful for the reprieve, and shakily used my arms to raise myself up above Nya. Her arms still clung to my waist, though, almost like we were dancing. Her grip, once rough and determined, was now delicate and fragile. I looked down on her and could not resist giving a ragged smile. Nya's hood was slightly askew from our roughhousing, her chest rose in ragged pants, and her eyes glistened with emotions so deep that I started to get a sinking feeling in my gut. I'm not going to lie, she looked immeasurably cute – even with that helmet covering her face.

In that moment, I tried to picture what Nya really looked like underneath her covering – to know this person like she knew me. I wanted to see her smile in front of me, to feel her breath on my cheek, to touch a finger to her skin. It was so unfair for her to be locked away from everyone else like this – shunned even by her own people – that the very notion that she was so very happy in this moment, gave me butterflies in my stomach. This was a person, a genuine person who would not be here today if it weren't for me. That said something. Was this what my actions were leading up to all this time? To be here with Nya right now, despite all of the misgivings that I harbored?

Fully conscious of my actions in the moment, I reached over and caressed the top of her helmet, feeling the cold scratched metal but imagined myself parting thin strands of warm hair. Nya made a sound that sounded like a cross between a yip and a squeak as she moved her head to maneuver it more into my palm. With a deep breath, I lowered my head next to hers and gently pressed my cheek against the side of her helmet. I only had to rotate a few centimeters to the left for me to brush my lips upon her. Such a simple action – how hard could that be?

Nya's hands had moved up from my waist to my shoulders, gently pressing me into her. We were so close that our deep breathing flattened our stomachs against the other. She gave a moan so quiet that if my ear had not been so close to her vocabulator, I would not have been able to pick up on it. Even through the enviro-suit she wore, I could feel the heat radiating off the quarian. Being held like this, even lying on the ground, felt remarkably peaceful. Just this tiny sliver of time felt to me like it lasted hours – spun out and become crystallized for every one of my senses to experience in an amazing moment.

The thing is about those moments, they have to end eventually.

Eyes snapping open, something tugged at my heart, leaving a lasting stab of pain. That image of a crumpled body, desecrated and dirtied, floated back into my mind again. Body now feeling heavy, I quickly pulled away, out of Nya's grip. She whimpered as I left her, her fingers reaching out to me but I left her lying alone on the ground. The movie had ended by now and the credits were rolling in the background. Wiping my brow before sweat could stain it, I began to stand back up as Nya slowly sat up as well, confused.

"We've got six more hours until morning," I said robotically, oddly distant. "We should try to get some sleep."

"I…I…" Nya stammered, completely caught off guard from the abrupt mood change. She could not find the words to form a complete sentence. How could she? I'd be willing to bet everything that I owned that she had never been in a situation like this before – her emotions had completely saturated her system and when the stimulus had been removed, only disorientation remained.

I recovered enough of what had remained of my pity in time to give her a chance. "You need anything, Nya?"

I waited for her to say anything remotely close to what I was expecting. I wanted her to say 'me' or just something along those lines that would give me an opportunity to stay. But if that was what I really wanted, why was I fleeing? Why did I have to ask if I knew the answer already?

Nya looked down on the floor mournfully after five seconds, her gaze filled with sorrow. "No-…Nothing…" she murmured, her body wracked with regret.

It was a lie – I knew it and she knew it. I could press on and pry the truth from her, but I did no such thing. Was she hiding something as well? I stayed for about half a minute, each millisecond creating a silence so large that it became deafening.

In the end, I managed only a half-hearted 'goodnight' to Nya and left the room before either of our minds could change. As I climbed into my bed, I could not help replaying all of the possible outcomes of what I could have done to make the situation any less awkward. For some reason, I could find no justification for the choice I made.

So why the hell did I choose _this_ path?

* * *

Not surprisingly, I could not get any sleep.

It seemed like no matter the position I was in, I could not become comfortable enough for very long – not long enough for me to slip into that temporary coma we call sleep. My thoughts were just too wild for me to calm down. I was tossing and turning relentlessly, almost like I had downed an entire pot of coffee beforehand. This made no sense – I was up and moving almost the entire day, I should be at least a bit tired but no, I was wide awake, staring up at the ceiling with a pounding heartbeat and a racing pulse.

With a groan, I lifted my head up to look at my chronometer just to see how much time had passed. It felt like I had been in this unbearable position for the entire night but when I turned on my lamp, it showed that only an hour had passed. Only one hour!? It felt much freaking longer than that! Mumbling various curses bemoaning my luck, I let my head flop back down onto the pillow, utterly demoralized.

It was no use; I had to concede that I was not going to be able to sleep like this. Still muttering to myself, I kicked the covers off me and padded over to the door, clad in pajama shorts and a tank top. I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing some pie that I had saved from an earlier meal. I set it on the counter and hunted all over for the wine that I had for dinner. My plan was to fill my stomach and drink a bunch of alcohol so that all of the blood would rush towards my digestive system while the alcohol would make me woozy – creating the perfect conditions for going to sleep. It sounded like a good plan and I would have gone through with it until I saw the other bottle of wine perched suspiciously on the kitchen counter.

Picking up the bottle, I examined the label. It was the dextro wine Nya had ordered online and it was empty. That was odd, I could have sworn that she only finished half of it during dinner – but then again, I did abruptly leave without examining my surroundings so I could attribute this oversight to my lack of awareness. As I set the empty tube down, I heard a shuffling noise come from the guest room and noticed that the sliding door was completely open. Was Nya awake? Could she not sleep like me? The need to investigate beckoned.

Quietly tiptoeing over to the room, I craned my neck around the corner and tried to spot Nya in the darkness. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I could see the quarian's outline curled up in a fetal position on the bed, her back to me. I was about to exit, thinking that she was asleep, when I noticed that her body was moving rhythmically, more than someone would move if they were asleep. I could not stop watching as her back continually arched and she gave several sighs very quietly. I confused as to what was happening until I saw where one of Nya's hands was and I looked away, suddenly embarrassed.

I could leave. I could just go right now and she would not be the wiser. But something prevented me from departing. I don't know, but I could just sense that Nya was…sad. Why else would she be in this position, especially since we had a nice evening together? That struck me deeply even though I had no way of confirming it. What was there to be sad about? With a shaking hand, I gingerly raised it up to the doorframe and softly rapped upon it twice, announcing my presence.

"Nya?" I called quietly, not wanting to startle her. "You okay?"

She did not respond, but her body abruptly stilled like she had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Nya took a deep breath and it came out in rough shudders. "Sam…" she whispered pathetically, her voice hoarse. Taking that as a cue to enter, I walked over to the bed and slowly sat down upon it. Reaching out, I gently touched her shoulder and she rolled onto her back, allowing me to see her eyes. To my surprise, they were watery – filled with tears. She had been crying. Why I could not fathom, but it deeply affected me so.

"What is it?" I implored her, my voice soft and assuring. "What's wrong, Nya?"

She shook her head imperceptibly and wrapped her hand around my wrist. Her breathing slowed, becoming deeper, and I could pick up on the tiny quivers coming from her chest as she struggled to control her emotions in my presence.

I wondered if I had intruded upon her; that she wanted to be alone despite what signals her body was sending me. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," Nya said throatily. Her grip on my wrist tightened painfully, like handcuffs. "Don't. I…I want you to stay."

"I don't want to if I'm upsetting you in any way."

"Upsetting me?" Nya's head rose and she gave a weak chuckle, taking the opportunity to touch my arm gently. "Why…why would you ever think that?"

"You were crying," I stated carefully. "I was worried that I had hurt you somehow."

Nya now began to sit up, her eyes wide open. "No!" she gasped. "Oh no, no, no, Sam. I'm just…you don't need to worry about me. I'm simply an idiot. Just an idiot for believing in a false hope."

That struck me. Nya had never spoken this sharply about herself before, not in my presence. "You're not an idiot," I told her. "You're anything but. You are fun, talented, and such a smart person. Definitely not an idiot."

The quarian gave a sigh and I wished that I could dab away the tears from her eyes. Damn that enviro-suit. "You've always been sweet to me, Sam," Nya whispered. "More than I deserve. Much, much more."

"The hell you say!" I was astonished as I firmly grasped Nya's shoulders. "I've only tried to give you the kind of decency that you've always deserved – as a _person_! Why the self-deprecation? Why would you think that you deserve less?"

"Sam…" Nya shook her head. "I'm grateful for the kindness you've shown me. I've never trusted anyone as much as you and…and I'm an idiot for wanting more."

"More? What else did you want?"

"What I've always wanted," came the sad reply. " _You_."

I blinked slowly, regretful. It was like a weight had lifted off my chest, allowing me to breathe normally again. There it was; it was out in the open. If Nya had not been holding onto me, I would have recoiled in shock despite me subconsciously knowing what the answer was going to be.

"You mean…" I whispered. "All this time?"

Nya nodded and made a pitiful noise. "Don't you see? It's not about what you have done to me…and it's _all_ about that at the same time. How else could I perceive you? You, the man – the human – the only one who ever stood up for me and came back into my life so joyously. When I met you on your ship for the first real time…I didn't know what to make of it. I thought it was only a passing thought, but it lingered like a scar. That…that scar just deepened over time and being with you again merely reopened it!"

"Nya," I said urgently as I pressed a hand to the side of her helmet, but she would have none of it.

"No, I _need_ to say this," she said, breathless. "I have thought about you _every day_ for almost three years. For half that time, I only knew your first name and nothing else. I spent days on end combing the extranet, desperate to catch a glimpse of you so that I could find out more about who you were. Eventually I gave up and that scar healed over. For a time, I thought I could forget you, but when we ran into each other again and you treated me with the same kindness, it was like a hole opened inside me. The longer I spent around you, I realized that I…I _cared_ more and more for you."

She paused, shocked that she had let such a thing slip but soldiered on bravely as I kept my face stoic the entire time. "I tried to tell myself that it was crazy, that a human like you could never reciprocate the same feelings for a quarian. Yet, I never got an indication from you that you were interested in anyone else. That hope poisoned me, agitated me, because I had no way of knowing. After all, why would you fall for someone like me? You can't see my face, feel my skin, or…or kiss me! I must seem like a freak to you and yet you keep treating me with compassion! You _understand_ me and I have not felt this way with anyone before and…and…"

Nya gulped as the words vanished into her throat. I allowed a little bit of sorrow to show on my face, and for good reason. Here was Nya, lying on my bed and spilling her guts to me – the whole sordid story. The guilt compounded onto me for I had not known just how much pain my mere presence had been causing Nya. Joy, yes, but there was pain nonetheless. Shame gripped me, for I had no way of knowing this would ever happen. I did not intend for Nya to be in emotional agony nor did I intend for her to fall for me. Had I known beforehand, I would have warned her away, strayed clear of her, but here she was, admitting how much I meant to her. She was so brave telling me this that I could not, in good conscience, resolve to upset her right now.

"You're not a freak," I told her. "I've never thought of you that way. Not even for a moment. I just wish…that I had known that I was causing you to hurt so much. If I did, I don't know. Maybe things would be different."

Nya began to breathe normally after witnessing my measured reaction. She clutched her chest in relief, almost like she was going to faint.

"Still…you can't blame me for thinking that I was being crazy, right?"

"Wrong on that account," I said as I reached out for her with hunger. "Come here."

I don't think that even in Nya's wildest dreams could she have imagined what happened next. Carefully wrapping my arms around her body, I rolled her on top of me so that she was lying flat on my chest. She was light, about twenty pounds lighter than me, so I had no trouble with her full weight pressing down on my torso. This was all purposeful, something that she realized as my hands began to travel up and down her back, caressing her sensually. Her body completely froze up, paralyzed and intimidated, and she started to hyperventilate as these foreign sensations travelled up and down her spine. My god, the poor woman was nervous.

"Shh," I soothed as I carefully took Nya's hand as my body took her weight. "It's okay, Nya. It's okay." I studied the slight raised fabric pattern that wrapped around the back of her hand before I raised it to my lips and kissed it. It was warm and smelled slightly of grease. Nya loudly gasped, her eyes wide as saucers.

Rubbing a thumb along her hand, I gently stroked the back of her head with my other free hand. "Could you feel that?" I asked her, referring to the kiss.

"Only…only a little bit," she replied breathlessly.

"How about this?" I went on as I kissed her forearm, making sure to use a little more pressure.

Nya moaned, her chest beginning to rub along mine in excitement. "Y-Yes…" she croaked lustily. "Better…"

Smiling, I then cupped her helmeted head with my hands and scooted downward so that I could kiss her on the side of her throat. The rubbery material there was burning hot and even more yielding. I could detect the trembling going through her neck – the meekness from her breathing. I kissed her throat again, knowing that she could feel it even through her enviro-suit. Her moans became louder and she grabbed at my head fiercely, wriggling her hips so that she could sit up on top of me.

I felt the pressure on my chest lift away and I hoisted myself up on my forearms so that I could follow. Nya was now straddling me, her bowed legs on either side of me while she wrung her hands together. "I was right," she murmured in disbelief. "Keelah…I was right." I reached out to her and placed my hands on her hips, feeling the hard bone underneath.

"Right about what?" I softly asked.

Nya looked at me like the answer should have been the most obvious thing that I could fathom. " _You_ , of course," she said matter-of-factly. Her shaking hands came to my face, hesitant at proceeding further, but they found me and traced my features ever so slightly, from my beard to my mouth, nose, and eyes. The gloves felt silky to me and Nya's touch was feather-light. I closed my eyes and let her proceed at her own pace, to take her time for something that she had clearly been wanting to do for a long time.

"I…I want…to t-touch you…" Nya stammered, voice husky. "But…but not like this. For _real_ , Sam. I want to f-feel you for myself…for you to feel me. But…I _can't_. I just can't."

I didn't press her further for what Nya meant. She was referring to her weak immune system getting in the way, of course. I did not know much but I knew enough about quarian traditions that the willingness to remove one's suit was an unmistakable sign of trust – and intimacy. There was no interpreting it any other way; Nya wanted to make love to me – and the weird thing was that I did too. However, that could not happen tonight – it was too big of a risk for Nya as she had not prepared her immune system for this eventuality. If she removed her mask, there was a high risk that she could die from an airborne infection. As much as I desired such an outcome right now, I was brought back down to earth from the reality of the situation.

Moving a hand up and down her side, I shook my head very slowly. "There's no need to rush things. I don't want to pressure you. For now, just tell me what you want."

Nya took my hands and began leading them along her body. She guided them to her stomach, allowing me to lay my palms over her quivering belly. Her lungs expanded in rapid, shallow breaths. Our eyes never left the other, each implicitly trusting our partner.

"I want you to touch me," Nya whispered in a sultry voice. Slowly, she guided my hands upward towards her chest.

"Where?" I asked hoarsely, hoping for clarification.

There had to be a smile behind that visor, I just knew it. "Anywhere."

Guided by her, Nya brought my hands up and slowly placed them upon her covered breasts. My mouth was agape, shocked at the quarian's boldness but she did not seem to mind. I could feel the warm flesh through the suit and I squeezed the supple material greedily. Nya arched her back as I gently fondled her breasts, sighing contently as my tender movements sent pleasurable feelings coursing through her. The enviro-suit meant that their range of movement was limited, but I could still play with her breasts to my heart's content regardless. Even when we were fully, this had to be one of the most erotic moments of my life up to this point.

Feeling courageous, I leaned forward and kissed the area between Nya's breasts as she lovingly held my head to her chest. The soft noises that she was making signaled that she was in a blissful state, completely peaceful. Her alien heart pounded blood through her body and I could feel the odd _one, one-two_ tempo thudding against my cheek. She stroked the back of my head and I looked up at her, imagining an enraptured face behind that red haze.

We sat like this for several minutes, just petting the other. Often, my hands would come upon a sensitive spot where the suit was thin, allowing me to apply pressure in order for Nya to make a soft cry. She made the cutest noises – they certainly laid her character completely bare before me.

"You know," Nya whispered as she lowered her head down so close that my lips were almost touching her vocabulator, "when you walked in…I was actually in the middle of…of…"

It took me a longer time than I'm willing to admit before I realized what she was referring to. My face flushed red, embarrassed but for a moment, as Nya skirted the subject in such a manner that hinted at the lewd act.

Mouth dry, I licked my lips. "I…" I said around a windpipe that had no air going through, "…I can help you with that...if you want."

"C-Could you?" Nya said, like she was unwilling to believe it.

My head dipped in a very minute nod. "Absolutely. Turn…turn around."

Slowly, she obeyed, swinging her legs over mine and sitting down in between them. Grabbing carefully at her waist, I pulled her so that she was positioned comfortably against me, her back resting on my chest. Her head lolled so that it was on my shoulder, looking up and to the right at me. With a smile, I gently brushed my fingertips along the side of her helmet, down her neck and over her breasts, causing her to squirm and cry out quietly. Heart aflutter, my hand dipped to about where her navel was, stopping just slightly in case I was going too fast. Nya did not seem to have that problem as she grabbed a hold of my wrist and pushed it just a few more inches downward until it was at the hot junction between her legs.

A flap of Nya's cloak was blocking my view so I could not see what my fingers were doing, but I could certainly feel enough to know what to do. Heat radiated from the area, practically bathing my hand in it. Nya whimpered as I positioned my thumb slightly against her, applying the barest amount of pressure. With everything in place, I could halt myself no more. Breath lodged in my throat, I mentally prepared myself as I began to rub Nya down there, gently as to not cause her any pain.

Working through the material of the enviro-suit was much different than what I was used to, but it seemed to have a good enough effect on Nya. Her hips thrust upward, into my hand, as I helped her to get off. Her gasps became wet and her body writhed against mine, exciting me. I used my other hand to wrap around her front, clutching a breast at the same time. While one hand stimulated Nya down there, the other squeezed her breasts, giving her pleasure from two different areas. Nya cried out, her hands fluttering everywhere as she tried to find something to clutch onto. I held her tightly against me, whispering softly and kissing her neck once more to make the experience all the more pleasurable.

Nya's thighs mercilessly crushed my hand as I continued to rub her. The rubber of the enviro-suit was so hot I imagined it to be boiling away at this point. Nya was getting close, as evident from how strongly she was reacting right now. I had not been going for very long yet she was ready, limbs quaking heavily. I held onto her, murmuring calming words as I listened to her gasps, her moans, her cries. "Yes…yes…" she begged, whimpering for me to finish her. The quarian sobbing in my arms, I kept at it even though my thumb was starting to cramp up, thinking of nothing else but to end the night with Nya at her happiest. It was a noble goal, one that betrayed my true feelings in the hormone-saturated air. I kissed her for the final time, my lips dragging across the rubber neck seal, imagining it to be hot flesh, yielding to my lips.

Just seconds later, Nya's legs smashed together and she let out one long, low, cry as her entire body locked up. Her legs straightened like boards and every muscle tensed, astounding me with how fit she was. Rigid for several seconds, her hips made a few intense spasms before everything loosened and she collapsed onto me with a grateful sigh, finally spent. I let out a breath that I had not realized that I had been holding and absentmindedly rubbed a hand along the top of Nya's chest. I allowed my mind to wander for but a moment until I felt a hand upon me, reaching towards the lip of my shorts. Eyes flaring open, I grabbed at Nya's wrist to just in time to halt her. I saw the hurt expression in her eyes as she realized that I did not want to continue on. For some reason, to do so felt…wrong. Like it would not be appropriate. Somewhere, a part of me started to ache.

"No," I gently told her. "I don't need the same."

She wanted me to go on, to explain why she should be the one receiving the pleasure and that I should get nothing in return. Nya panted in frustration, knowing that it wasn't fair for me to do this. However, I fixated her with a stern look – causing her to drop the argument before it could ever be formulated. Like I said, we did not need to take things so fast.

We laid back on the bed, our heads on the pillows. Nya, drunk with happiness, rolled so that her leg and arm were atop me while her body snuggled against my side, warming me. I could hear her synthesized breathing and her fingers slightly tickled me as they ran along my collarbone. The air stilled, our breaths joined in tandem, and I felt contentment rise within me like never before.

And then Nya said three words that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Head millimeters away, body pressing into mine, hands caressing my neck, Nya gave a soft keen before she nodded off to sleep. " _I love you_."

Everything shattered for me in that moment. My goal, my rules, all had been for nothing, I realized. I had failed at what I had set out not to do in the first place. The worst part was, I could not find the power within me to say no. How could I? How could I break this girl's heart if this was what she wanted? The _only_ thing she ever wanted!

But the little voice in my head had other ideas. " _It was never about what either of you wanted. It was about what was best for you in the first place."_

I was so hopelessly confused that my flabbergasted brain could not focus for an entire minute. Oddly enough, despite my tumultuous feelings, I managed to fall asleep just a few minutes after Nya did, but that was not without one final thought from me, summarizing how I truly felt in that moment.

Dear god, what have I done?

* * *

 **A/N: My supply of coffee was plentiful, as it turned out, so I'm pleased that I could upload this chapter exactly a week after the last one. Hope you guys like it.**

 **As an aside, I've been listening to the _Drive_ soundtrack recently and have found that the track "Where's the Deluxe Version?" by Cliff Martinez would be an excellent musical identity for Sam, in my opinion, much like how I previously assigned a theme from _The Martian_ to Nya. Just thought it would give some extra context - some people like that kind of stuff. Music makes me work better while I'm writing and assigning themes to certain characters gives me some inspiration on how to portray them.**

 **Also: see Deadpool. It was freaking hilarious.**


	16. Chapter 16: Random Access Memory

_The dying sun cast an end to an otherwise beautiful day, but I was not concerned with the view. In fact, I was oblivious to pretty much most of my surroundings. What I was focused on right now, were towards things more pertinent than shallow glances at sunsets. I had my mission; everything else was a distraction._

 _I don't know why I was driving on this road, though. I'm not even sure what route I took to get here in the first place. All I knew for a fact was that Taylor was missing and that I had to find her by any means necessary. It gave me peace of mind, knowing that I was out actually doing something rather than twiddling my thumbs while sitting on a fucking couch. The only problem was, I did not have the first clue where to start looking. I'm sixteen years old, not some private eye. How the hell could I possibly know where she had gone?_

 _I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that the leather was crinkling in protest. The interior of the SUV was sweltering but I did not turn the air conditioner on. The radio was silent as well. I figured that any excess noise in the background would make me lose my concentration, for I was scanning all over the area but the road. Like I said, everything else was a distraction._

 _As the road climbed higher and higher into the mountains, I could look over to my right and see the Pacific, glowing blood red from the sun that was just about to set over the horizon. The hazy light reflected back into my eyes, bathing the interior of the car with a sickly warm hue. Blinking, I turned back to the road and flipped my headlights on, illuminating the chalky white gravel of the road heading underneath the tires._

 _I continued to follow the trail for ten more minutes, cold sweat running down my back, eyes constantly on the move. The truck was coping just fine with the terrain, no whines of protest coming from the engine. When I saw up ahead after a series of turns past a thin set of trees that there were a pair of tire tracks that veered off from the main road, flattening the thin grass, I gently applied my brakes and halted, parking the car. I grabbed the flashlight that had been laying on the passenger seat and kicked the door open, exposing me to the cool and salty sea air. The town of Carmel shone below me in the distance just a few miles away, the brightest source of light now that it was technically night. Directly behind me down the range, the affluent neighborhood of Quail Meadows glistened, the million dollar mansions all snug in the valley about a couple thousand feet below me. Those rich pricks were all nice and cozy while I was up here, in the rugged outdoors about to have a goddamn panic attack._

 _It was cold at this altitude, at the back end of autumn, so I made sure to put on the sweatshirt that I had draped over the other seat, wrapping it around my frame. Heart pounding steadily, I ignited the flashlight and began to walk in the direction of the faint tire marks, dead grass crunching underneath my shoes._

 _It had now been a week since Taylor had gone missing and the whole town was starting to accept the very worst possible outcome. It had been one fateful day, started out as normal as it could possibly be, except for the fact that she never returned home from school. She had been last seen with her friends before she began walking home and then nothing. Hours went by without any contact and my parents finally called the authorities once it had gotten dark. Very little happened in this beach community so the entire police force had been working this case around the clock, day in and day out, but to no avail. Everyone had their own version about what had happened to sweet Taylor McLeod, but I was not ready to accept anything as fact. Those horrible things that these people were insinuating, I could not think about my sister like that!_

 _That was why I felt the need to act. Taylor would have done the same were she in my position._

 _On the trail, there was most likely no need for urgency, but I felt mentally pressured enough to break out in a jog, sweeping the flashlight from side to side rapidly, searching for clues. Look at me, I was acting like a fucking boy scout, hoping to be the hero and save the day, just like in the movies. Like I would be able to find the barest shred of evidence and somehow map out the entire case based on the process of deduction. I had no idea how stupid I was, for if I knew the actual truth, I would have given up all optimism on the first day. Yet…I was here, because someone needed to look._

 _My parents were nervous, of course, about me wandering alone after Taylor had disappeared. I tricked them, obviously, that I was out with friends just trying to hang out. No way was I going to tell them the truth that I had been going out every night to search places outside the city that I figured the police would not have looked by now. I had brought one of my dad's knives along for protection, so I felt secure in my own inflated mind. Never mind the fact that a teenage with a knife would probably do more harm than good, I needed the mental fortification._

 _Just then, the beam of my flashlight hit a tall wooden post with snapped barbed wired looped at its base. The remnants of a fence. This must have been the boundary of a farm at some point, before someone snagged up the land with the intention of building condominiums upon it. The wire looked to be freshly cut, based on how clean the snap point was and the fact that the metal fiber shavings had not dulled yet. I guess watching all those cop shows had been good for something._

 _The tracks had ended at this point, but there were still faint indents past the snapped fence, too wide for a car but just right enough for a person. Footprints. Not knowing if I was being watched or not, I hunkered down in a crouch-walk position, and drew the knife from the holster. I had no clue of how to properly stab someone at this age, as my only strategy was to swing the blade around wildly and hope it caught someone's neck, if I was attacked. I was probably being paranoid, but my sister did just disappear so I think I had the right to act cautious._

 _The grass here was long and had not been mowed in quite a while, but the footpath was still new enough that I could follow it with relative ease. If anyone was around, the flashlight was practically a beacon for lurking stalkers – yet more evidence of my naiveté. If I had no weapon, I could not imagine just how scared shitless I would be. Adrenaline beginning to spike, I began to walk at a face pace, then jog, then finally broke out into a run. I was passing fence post after fence post at such a rapid pace that I was not even paying attention to my surroundings. At this point, I was just running to indicate to myself that I had covered this portion of land and would therefore never have to come back here again. After thirty more seconds of running, I was about to wheel around and head back to the truck before my feet caught on an object partially obscured by the long grass and I fell down hard._

 _My arms jutted out at the last moment to prevent me from busting my chin, but my chest made contact forcefully, staining my sweatshirt brown with dirt. My palms were all scraped up, but at least nothing was broken. I got to me knees and blew out a quiet curse, thinking that I had tripped over a root. I looked back to confirm just how blind I had been until my eyes penetrated the darkness and an icy coldness gripped over me._

 _It had not been a root that I had tripped over._

 _The object that had disrupted my footing was much larger. At first I thought it had been an animal that had chosen a poor sleeping spot, but I realized that it was covered in clothes – but only partially. Standing up, I carefully aimed the flashlight at the spot in particular, willing my hands to stop shaking, only uttering a soft cry when I finally caused the darkness to flee under the scrutiny of the light._

 _The eyes of the body were staring off into space, unblinking. Their hair was matted down to their scalp, crusted with dried blood. Their arms were bruised, the fingernails cracked and purple. They were not wearing anything below the waist and I let out a sob as I saw the sticky blood that ran down the exposed inner thighs, originating from her…her…_

 _I dropped both the knife and the flashlight, now casting the dead body in a series of sinister shadows. My hands covered my mouth and I felt faint, sick, and tired all at once. A million different things were clouding my mind, paralyzing me to my spot. My skin grew cold and sweat sprung up from all my pores, coating me instantly._

" _T-Taylor…" I whimpered before I began to shriek horrifically. I screamed and screamed until I ran out of breath. That was when I violently threw up._

* * *

My eyes flared open as I stirred from the dream, breath bubbling from my lungs. My neck was stiff and my limbs lethargic. I would have sat upright in my bed were it not for the arm lazily draped over my chest that did not belong to me. I turned my head to see the familiar helmet of the female quarian sleeping just inches from my head, conversely undisturbed. Moving slowly, I could hear the faint and tinny sound of Nya's breathing as she dozed, still clinging to me as if I was a life preserver. I could see no glimmer from underneath her visor – her eyes were closed.

With a sigh, I delicately extricated myself from Nya's grip, not wanting to disturb the resting quarian. She gave out a muffled whimper as I left and her body curled up in response to the loss of her heat source. I looked back at her fetal form and stared almost uncomprehendingly. Nya seemed so peaceful, so serene. I don't think that she had ever been so comfortable in her life; for all I knew this was the one time where she felt the most accepted from anyone…and only now did I realize that I had been the catalyst for this behavior. This was my doing, all of it.

Running my hands through my hair, I left the bedroom and slipped out onto the balcony. It was still the early morning – relatively speaking - and the traffic was still light. The air was just at the right temperature where I barely got a chill, but goosebumps broke out along my flesh regardless. Maybe it was the fact that there was a thin sheen of sweat coating me that was causing me to feel cold.

I breathed in and out slowly to calm my racing heart. That dream had been the most vivid one yet. The shakes were starting to return again. I almost went back to the kitchen to grab some alcohol or a cigarette but I deliberately held myself back, willing myself to win this through perseverance. I would not let these memories of Taylor ruin me as a person – they've already did their damage. No point in trying to destroy someone who was already destroyed. Her departure left her mark on me and it was my duty to see that it did not spread to anyone else.

Except…there was Nya to consider. Nya…

No, I could not drag her into this! There was a reason why every single relationship that I've had before has ended in catastrophic failure. No one has ever gotten this close to me until now, and what they could see frightened me. Nya could only see the flimsy shell of good that I used to mask my rotten and diseased core – or at least that was what I thought. I've never felt such guilt like this before. Nya deserved better than me, better than this confused and misplaced wreck. I'm too broken for her to cling onto. As much as it hurt me to even think it, I did not want to go through with this if I thought that I was going to bring her any pain. I could just not stand to imagine her all miserable in response to my petty and selfish-

Two arms wrapped themselves around my front without warning, but the motion was done so warmly and fluidly that I did not jump in surprise. I knew who they belonged to and I wondered in bewilderment how I could not hear her coming. A second later, I felt Nya's warm body press against my back and she rested her helmet near the nape of my neck, softly murmuring contently.

"Morning, Sam," Nya yawned as her hands started to pet me. Soft touches, almost sensual. The touch of a woman madly in love. God help me. "Sleep well?"

I continued to stare off into space for a moment while letting Nya touch me to her heart's content. "Fine," I responded hoarsely, my voice betraying me instantly. "You?"

"Never had a better rest," she effused as she disengaged to look around at my front. Cupping my chin gently, she rotated my head to look at her when I failed to do so in a timely manner. "Hey," she said, noting my thousand-yard stare, "you okay?"

I don't think she looked any more alive than right now and I almost had a change of heart in regards of how my future actions were going to play out. The little facets on her enviro-suit were now back into place after being skewed around the night before. Her posture and mannerisms just hours ago were meek and timid, but now she was standing up straighter, hands on my collarbone, with the kind of boldness that only comes between two people in the most intimate of settings. I could have sworn that there was a distinct _glow_ about her – one that was very, very contagious.

If she lingered, this icicle in my chest would melt eventually.

Almost regretfully, I moved one of her hands to my cheek, like she did to me just last night. It just felt right to me, for some reason. I sighed around her touch and gave her a wistful smile. "I'm…just fine," I lied again.

The hand on my cheek pressed more firmly in. "What's troubling you? Is it something that I did?"

Ever so slightly, I shook my head without mirth. Time for evasive maneuvers. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Nya removed her hand from my face and took a measured step back. "Why…why not? What's wrong, Sam?"

There it was. That flash of Taylor again – the concerned voice, the constant desire to share in others' problems. I flinched only minutely and backed up reflexively, but Nya quickly came forward and held herself against me, knowing that letting me go would be a mistake. She was making this much harder than I wanted it to be from her affections. Maybe a human would have caught my tone and just have let sleeping dogs lie and that Nya's consistent concern was a facet attributable to her species. It then occurred to me that I just might be over my head on this one.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Nya beat me to it. "You don't have to say anything. I know what's bothering you." I was not expecting this. How could she possibly have any inkling of what was causing me pain? "I…" she stammered, "It was last night, wasn't it? I took things too fast with you. I shouldn't have done that. Pressured you into…" Nya took a deep breath, "…into coming to bed with me. I was drunk and selfish and…I thought you would have liked it." She stared up at me, her eyes doleful. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

Why was it that my heart broke every time Nya blamed herself, even if the fault was never directed at her? Why did I feel compelled to comfort this woman – this alien; she was a creature, not even human! Yet we shared the same feelings, the same trauma. We were connected emotionally by bonds that transcended our race – what the hell do people call feelings like that?

Oh yeah…I know the word. I'm not going to use it just yet unless I have to.

Mouth dry, I could bear to be silent no longer. "Selfish," came my rough chuckle. "That's a word that I would attribute to many people. Far too many, I'm sad to admit. But not to you, Nya. Never to you." I used a finger to push up Nya's chin slightly. "Who's lying now, hmm? You should know that you can't just needlessly drag yourself down in front of me and expect to get away with it. _I'm_ the one who deserves the denigration. If there's anyone here who's been selfish between the two of us…it's me."

"Y-You? But Sam, I-,"

"I've been selfish for too long, I'll admit. I just can't bear for you to lump yourself in that group of people alongside me when you don't deserve it. Especially since I'm the one who's been the jerk the entire time."

"I…I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to," I said, mustering my voice to be as calm as possible as I turned back toward the balcony, staring back out at the Citadel skyline. My chest felt tight, like my windpipe was about to collapse, but some miracle caused my next words to be uttered without anything impeding them. "And that's why I don't think you should be around me anymore."

The jolt rushing through Nya's body was so violent that I could almost imagine that she had been shot right then and there. If anything though, her fingers grabbed onto me tighter, unwilling to process the words that had come out of my mouth.

"Wh-What?" her voice was a deathly whisper. "That makes no sense! Why would you _say_ such a thing?"

Her confusion was well-founded but my face was stone. It was like my body had become detached from my emotions and was running on autopilot, making sure that no emotions flickered through my facial muscles, giving no indications that I was joking about the matter.

"You were right, though. Last night _was_ a mistake. A mistake that I caused, not you. That's why…you should stay clear of me because I'm just going to hurt you." Under my breath so that Nya could not hear, I added, "That's all I ever do, apparently."

Nya looked shocked for a moment before she disengaged and pointed an accusatory finger at me with a growl. I was surprised; I had expected her to start crying or do something pathetic, not adopt an aggressive stance of defiance. But then again, this was something that Nya was very passionate about so it made sense that she would fight for what she wanted, even if the outcome was not going to be in her favor this time. Regardless, she would not hold back, I feared.

"No," she shook her head deliberately. " _No!_ That's _not_ how this works! You don't get to turn it all around on you, Sam! Not when I was the one who pressured you into touching me like that! I was out of line, so why are you using that as an excuse?!"

 _She_ was out of line?! I was the one who practically _initiated_ the entire encounter, for god's sake!

"Even though I was the one who started kissing you, who started to hold you in that manner? No, Nya, I'm the one at fault. And I'm not the sort of person who's ready for this sort of thing. I don't think I'll _ever_ be ready because you don't know who I really am and what I've been through!"

"Who _you_ really are?" Nya snarled back. "Are you really going to give me a pitiful excuse like you're some sort of deranged serial killer or something along those lines? You can't fool me, _bosh'tet_ , because nothing I've seen in you points to any signs that you are a bad person, no matter how badly you're trying to convince me otherwise! You want to know why I've never pressured you to recount your past? Because _I didn't care_. The person who you claim you're masquerading as has done nothing but make me the happiest I've ever been in my life! Is that really what a pretender would do? Is that really someone as selfish as you claim would do? No, it is not."

"Regardless," I seethed, "it doesn't hide the fact that what I did was wrong!"

"That's crap," Nya snorted. "There's something else, isn't there? Last night just gave you a convenient excuse to lay this all on me – right when I poured my heart out to you, no less! If that's truly the case, why don't you tell me the one thing that's really bothering you right now?"

"And what do you think might that be?" was my acid retort, not expecting her to really have an answer.

Nya would continue to surprise me.

" _Taylor_ , obviously. Who is she? Why is she so important to you? At least give me the decency of providing an answer for this!"

My head rotated on its axis so fast that it might as well have popped clean off my shoulders, my blood turning to ice. "Where did you hear that name?" I whispered so intensely that Nya shrank a little in fear.

"I've heard you mumble it in your sleep…twice. Once on the flotilla and again last night."

Fuming, I bit the inside of my cheeks in frustration. Outed by my own pathetic sleep habits, who could have guessed? This changed things considerably. I did not want Nya to have known anything about that particular snippet of my life – it would only complicate matters further. For that matter, was I really so upset about Taylor that I muttered her name in my sleep every now and then? Obviously I could not lie – Nya would detect it immediately. Just a small amount of truth could be allowed to out itself, I granted.

"Taylor is obviously important to you," Nya added, sadness now tinging her voice. "But you've sounded melancholy when you spoke her name. Is she…" she flirted with hesitation, "…your lover?"

I blinked. "No, no," I corrected, not wanting that to be a point to drive Nya away. If there's one cliché I hate, it's a simple misunderstanding. "Taylor is nothing like that to me. She's my sister. No other way of putting it."

"Where is she?"

"She's dead," I said bluntly after a moment's pause.

Nya did not expect to hear that. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't realize…" She fumbled her words, trying to be comforting. "What happened to her?"

My hands clenched on the railing. I could feel my stomach churning with bile – an acrid taste already rising up my throat. All of my nerves were wired hot, cords of muscle in my arms tensed so tightly that they hurt. I looked out at the cityscape and back to Nya, finding her waiting. With a dismissive burst of air, I just shook my head and maneuvered past her to go back inside. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" Nya repeated in confusion, only following me back inside when it became clear that I was not coming back. She closed the balcony door behind her as she watched me head into the kitchen. "It _does_ matter! It matters because this is painful for you, Sam. You can't just expect me to let you wallow around like this!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" I mocked as I found a carafe of whisky. "Try and heal my wounds? That's not going to happen. I'm not someone that can be fixed like that. You wouldn't understand anyway."

"Then _make_ me understand!" Nya pleaded as she stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands reaching out. "Please! I _want_ to understand why you're hurting. Don't shut me out – not now."

"Sorry to disappoint," I said glibly as I began to pour some whisky into a spare glass. The lukewarm liquid barely made a sound as it sloshed around. "I never indicated it to you that I'm your white knight in shining armor, Nya. I'm not the guy with all the answers nor have I ever claimed to be. All I really am is just some poor sap that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only reason why we met in the first place was because of a fluke, nothing more."

"I don't give a _shit_ if it was a fluke or not!" Nya yelled, shocking me with her harsh language. She pounded on the counter in a fearsome manner, not backing down. "I never propped you up on some sort of pedestal! I know that you're not some perfect person but it was your good actions that defined my impression of you. What you did is in the past – saving me! That's no fluke! This…this is just you being unreasonable for matters that aren't clear to me! All I want is for you to let me in, Sam. If you don't want me to 'fix' you, I won't. But we have gone too far for you to just withdraw and expect me to tolerate it. This – _us_ – we don't work like that! I don't want you to be lonely if I have the ability to do something about it! Let me share the burden – let me help you!"

Lifting the glass to my lips, I let out a hearty chuckle. " _'Help?_ '" I smirked nastily. "See? Already you're trying to fix me. I told you before that you can't do anything for me. I don't need you sharing my problems. They're not yours to bear because I haven't been able to deal with it properly yet! What I've been through – it cannot be _comprehended_."

"Because your sister died?"

" _Forget about my dead sister!_ " I shouted, splaying my arms out, spilling some of the whisky. "She's not important right now!"

Nya put her hands on her hips and made a harrumphing noise. "Obviously that's not the case because you're all worked up about her. Did you forget that I've experienced loss, just like you? My father died before I was even born – my mother was taken from sickness when I was a child! I know what it feels like to lose someone so don't treat me like I don't know your pain!"

This was the first time that Nya had spoken about her family to me and it surprised me. She had never hinted about what her life was like before she moved onto the flotilla, even though all of the clues were there. It was somewhat humbling to be called out like this and I was disappointed in myself. However, my indignant ego was running at full swing and I was trying every trick in the book to cease this conversation short of hurling blows.

"It still doesn't matter because this conversation is over!" I bellowed. "Taylor is dead, but that's not the point! Well…it's a point, but it's not the main point!"

"Then what _is_ the main point?!" Nya pressed.

"I just told you that it _doesn't fucking matter!_ " I yelled, finally putting the glass up to my lips to take a much needed mouthful of liquor. Before that could happen though, Nya violently swiped her arm and caught the glass perfectly, knocking it out of my grip and sending it crashing against a set of shelves, spraying glass and booze all over the counter and floor.

"What – the – fuck – Nya!?" I hollered, my face most likely beet-red by now.

" _Everything matters!_ " she screamed, eyes wide with fury. "Anything that affects you affects me now, you stubborn idiot! I can't bear to see you like this, to destroy yourself needlessly. You think that you can hide behind some sheer visage and your alcohol and assume that this problem will just go away? I – want – this! I don't care if the truth will hurt me!"

"Then what do you want me to say?!" I yelled, my chest puffing in and out. I was on the brink of hysterics and my eyes felt raw. My hands clenched like I wanted to reach out and choke Nya but in my head I knew that I could never be brought to do something so horrible. "Should I have indicated to you beforehand that the sole reason why every single relationship that I've ever been in has ended in failure is because I've deliberately sabotaged them out of fear? Should I have said that I've never been able to bear caring for someone in the past because I was scared of losing them prematurely like my sister? When Taylor died, I was left depressed, suicidal, frightened of everything around me! I knew if such a thing happened to me again, I would not have the willpower to resist trying to kill myself! Ever try to commit suicide, Nya? It fucking sucks – and I know you've never felt that way before so don't even try to relate."

"But you won't lose me!" Nya said emotionally. She pointed at herself with both hands. "You won't, because I want to be with you! I want to _stay_ with you! You can't think-,"

"But you have no idea!" I stammered as I frantically rubbed at my face, feeling like I had aged ten years. My eyeballs hurt and my skin felt itchy and oily. I didn't care that I was about to blow everything wide open – I was too far on the edge to do any sort of rational thinking and I had already begun to tip over the precipice. "You have no idea of knowing the state of mind that I've been in for almost three fucking years now! If losing my sister wasn't bad enough, then this inexplicable chain of events that occurred to me feels like I've finally lost my _fucking mind!_ Why do I have these memories of inhabiting another life in the year 2015, not 2185?! Explain to me why I can possibly know events that occur in this galaxy before they even happen?! I _knew_ that the Citadel would be attacked that one time – that was why I had been traveling far away from it when we ran into each other again. And that, in the next year or so, I can predict that Commander Shepard will miraculously return from the dead, cure the krogan genophage, resolve the geth conflict on Rannoch, and end the war with an alien race of machine gods that were responsible for the attack on the Citadel?" A maniacal smile on my face, I waggled a finger very quickly. "And here's the kicker. Why the fuck do I believe that this entire universe – you, the Citadel, every- _fucking_ -thing, was simply a fictional world created from a _video game_ that I played in my childhood?! Huh?! _Explain that to me_!"

Silence passed between us.

As I expected, Nya was looking at me like I had forgotten to take my brain medication. I did just dump a truckload of information on her head so I knew that this was the part where everything was going to tear apart in spectacular fashion. I was waiting for her to leave in confusion from my rantings that I nearly missed what she said next.

"There…" her eyes scanned the ground, "…there has to be some explanation of why you think you were in the year 2015. A vivid dream, maybe? Or could it be that it was brought on by some sort of predisposition? It's all right to be scared of thoughts like these-,"

Nya reached out to me tenderly, but I recoiled, ashamed of her wanting to touch me now.

"No, no, no!" I scrunched my eyes closed and clutched my head. "This isn't some random episode if I've been experiencing this thing for years on end! It's been too visceral for me to have imagined any of this, both this universe and the previous one! Don't you get it? I can't explain why this happened to me, but it happened anyway! I have memories as clear as day from when I used to live on Earth over a hundred and fifty years ago! I can recall the faces of people I met from my childhood on Earth. I drove a car that used fossil fuels! Space travel was a luxury only afforded to scientists and the wealthy – with no indication that there was any extraterrestrial life out there! I had what was left of a family, a shitty apartment, and I threw it all away when I tried to kill myself one night! All those memories, sensations, and pain – I can feel it all, _remember_ it all. I crashed my car with the intention of killing myself and, for some reason, I woke up in a hospital on the Citadel with this gunshot to my stomach. That was the first time I saw an alien with my own eyes. I freaked out, obviously, but adjusted relatively quickly because I realized that had seen everything here before. Despite the foreignness, it was somehow all familiar and it hit me like a blow to the head when I finally figured it out. I was in this world from one of my video games."

There. It was out. Not in a sarcastic or joking manner, but in a real, honest outburst. My last veil of protection, ripped away.

I began to laugh uncontrollably, my eyes filling with tears from several different emotions while Nya stood by soundlessly, probably in shock by now. "A fucking video game. Where I control another character with a controller in my damn hands. Shepard…he was that character. Hah, I've played through every single conceivable aspect that this universe offers, which is why I did not turn into a nutcase the first day. This place was inherently familiar and I used that knowledge to my advantage in order to survive as best as I could. It's why I've never treated you differently, despite the fact that almost everyone else does, because I've never acquired the predisposition to think of quarians in terms of your established stereotypes."

Nya did not respond and I pointed to myself and laughed again. "You see? You're speechless and looking at me like I'm a crazy person. You want another reason why I didn't want to let you in? How about the fact that very soon, I know for a fact that a galaxy-wide war is going to start between the free species and those machine gods I mentioned, the Reapers. Billions are going to die in the conflict, perhaps trillions. The war will span between planets and no species will be spared. Earth will be devastated, as will Palaven, Sur'Kesh, Thessia, even Rannoch. A fucking _war_ and I can't even fight worth a damn. How do good do you think my chances are of surviving against odds like those? How about yours? If…if I do let you in and the worst does happen, what could be done to convince me to keep on living?"

"I…I don't know," Nya timidly piped up, speaking for the first time since I began my diatribe. "If what you say is true…do you know what happens to me?"

"No, I don't," I snapped. "You were supposed to die in that alley until I intervened. I have no idea what happens to-," I halted mid-sentence and did a double-take. "Oh no," I mumbled. "You can't seriously be believing what I'm saying."

Nya slowly moved around the counter, soundless. I began to back up, trying to keep the distance between us at a maximum. She couldn't- This was not happening. Why was she not leaving?!

"Nya…stop, please," I begged, tears perching precariously on my eyelids. I held up my hands to provide a flimsy sort of barrier. "Don't come any closer to me. I'll just hurt you if you stay."

Stubborn to the end, Nya did not listen to my protests. She instead proceeded forward, putting one foot in front of the other deliberately. I was crying now, my vision blurry from confronting events that were out of my control. It was painful to be in this position, to have everything I had been holding in suddenly slip out of me uncontrollably.

"Listen to my words, Nya," I implored her. "I…I'm insane. I must be. Why else would I think these things? How can I possibly justify this – make it sound reasonable to you when I can't make sense of it?" My back pressed up against the far wall. I was now trapped. Nya continued to head in my direction, eyes locked onto mine. I could not bear to look at her and deliberately tilted my head away.

"Damn it, Nya!" I cursed. "Just _listen_ for one second and think about what you're doing! Y-You can't be near me! I'm not right in the head, surely you must see that! _This_ is why I thought it was a mistake, because you-,"

Not hearing my words, Nya walked right up to me and gently looped her arms around my neck. I jerked from her light touch and every hair on my body stood up on end. I pounded the wall behind me miserably and made a low keen of despair. Standing on her tiptoes, Nya leaned in so that her helmeted face was inches from my own, her thumbs beginning to rub the back of my neck in a soothing manner.

"Why would I ever leave you?" Nya whispered. "When you need me more than I ever realized?"

I moaned helplessly, the tears beginning their descent down my face. "No, Nya…no. D-Don't try t-to help me. Please…"

The quarian put a hand to my cheek, forcing me to look at her while she dabbed some of the tears away with her dexterous fingers. "You cannot ask me to do this," she said forcefully. "I won't let you face this alone. Do you hear me, Sam? _You are not alone_. And…and I still love you, no matter what you can say."

It was at this point that my knees buckled and I completely lost my balance. My feet slid out from underneath me and I fell heavily to the floor. Nya gave a startled cry and I began to openly weep, completely overwhelmed from the quarian's kindness. I buried my head in my hands as I sat in a pathetic heap, my body wracked with sobs. Alarmed, Nya swiftly sat down right next to me and started to lean as she gave me a tender hug, her head resting on my shoulder.

I was ashamed, embarrassed, and vulnerable. I should have been the strong one, the anchor that kept the boat from floating away. Yet here I was, completely hacked to pieces, with Nya steadfastly holding me together as best she could. We sat like this for what must have been an hour, with me trying to control myself and Nya just wrapping herself around me. Her presence was all I wanted, all I _needed_ , and I was eternally grateful that she refused to go, despite what I had been shouting at her to do just previously. The feeling of drowning eventually passed and I was left breathing hard, fingers shaking, and my lungs aching.

Even though I had indicated otherwise, I soon reached out and gingerly wrapped my arms around Nya's waist and pulled her ever closer. She got the message and shifted her body so that she was sitting perpendicular to me, with her legs over my lap. Our hands became entwined and I wiped my eyes for the umpteenth time, hopelessly dumbstruck that Nya was still here with me instead of fleeing.

I hiccoughed and smiled weakly. "Even after all this…you're still here?"

"Where else should I be?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Whatever did I do to deserve someone like her in my life?

"I don't know. Anywhere but here would be my guess." I sighed longingly. "I…I guess you must have loads of questions for me…"

To my surprise, Nya shook her head. "I don't. You've provided me with all the answers I need. I don't want to dwell on this any more if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Nya…for god's…" I tried to say as I balled my fist but I could barely muster the strength to slam down on the ground. "I just told you several things that are justifiable grounds to put me in a _mental institution_. My past life…the video game…why stay?"

Her hands now cupped my face, planted directly over my beard. "Because it changes nothing. What you told me - that does not give me a reason to stop caring about you. Where or when you come from – you were right, it doesn't matter. All I care about is how you've treated me and if you think that somehow, you being from a different time period is going to change my feelings, you're dead wrong there."

"How…can you possibly _believe_ such a thing?" I was flabbergasted. There was no way that I could have predicted this outcome happening if it were true.

Nya gave a shrug. "I don't know if it's true or not," she admitted. "But I do know that _you_ believe it to be true, and that's enough for me. I can't prove such a claim right or wrong from where I'm sitting, so I'm not going to jump to conclusions right away. Who cares if you're really from a different year? Why should it matter now if you remember this place to be within some stupid video game? You're _here_ , aren't you?"

My hands came to the underside of Nya's helmet. "That's one way of putting it," I admitted, mouth bone-dry.

"Both of us, we're the same. Outcasts displaced by circumstances outside of our control." Nya gave a sigh that seemed to partially deflate her. "Keelah, I'm just glad that you're not a serial killer."

That brought out a much needed laugh from me and the two of us hugged gratefully. Her limber body melted against my broad frame. Words could not describe just how relieved I was. Relieved to have met such a woman who was so understanding, so forgiving, that she could see past my flaws and dig away the rot to find the real me inside. Wrapped in her embrace, I began to feel hopeful again, warm and fuzzy. I squeezed her tightly against me, limbs shaking in relief.

Her head pressed against my chest, Nya asked, "Do you want me to stay?"

I cracked my eyes open, staring out forlornly. "For how long?"

"For as long as you want."

Taking a deep breath, I positioned myself so that Nya was sitting on my lap, our concentration focused on nothing else but the other. "You'd be willing to give everything up for me? To leave your people and abandon your ambitions?"

"I'd do it immediately. All you have to do is ask."

Sighing, I gripped Nya's shoulders hard. "Nya, don't throw everything away just for me. What you're suggesting…it's bigger than us. You want to be a pilot, remember? You have a duty to your people – to their goal of reclaiming their homeworld. This is what you worked so hard for, remember?"

"I know," Nya responded. "But do you want me to stay?"

"Christ's sake," I muttered, utterly torn.

"Sam…"

"Nya," I interrupted. "Of course I want you to stay. I'd love it if you were to stay with me. I would give anything if you were to come away with me, leave the Citadel, and never look back."

"But…?" Nya added, sensing more.

"…But I need to know if that's something that _you_ truly want. If you would be completely willing to burn all your bridges, turn your back on your people, give up your dream of being a capital ship pilot, just for the sake of being with me. I don't want you to be miserable for following me – people who make significant choices this rashly mostly end up regretting them. I can't join you on the flotilla, because they won't let a human reside there for an extended period of time, so you can't ask that of me. If you want this, you have to be all in, one hundred percent."

Nya stilled in my arms, eyes shifting away in thought. Her hands slightly slackened in my grip and I suddenly knew which choice she made. I was not disappointed; actually, I was a little bit relieved. That did not stop my heart from aching a little bit and I blew air out of my nose in a soft sigh, knowing that the inevitable was upon us both.

"It…it isn't _fair_ ," she whimpered.

"Most of life usually isn't," I said, but I comforted her by giving Nya a gentle kiss on the top of her helmet. I needed her to know that I would support any decision she made, as long as she believed it was the right one.

"I can't bear to leave you alone, though. When…when you need my help the most."

"You've already helped me. More than anyone ever has," I assured her. "Just talking about these things feels like a weight has lifted off my chest. And by that I mean a _huge_ weight, let me tell you. I'll be fine, I promise. You've done enough, I need to face the rest on my own. I still have to come to grips with who I am and why I'm here."

"If what you said is true, the war could start before we see each other again."

My face felt chiseled from marble, which was why it was so difficult for me to crack a smile. "That's the flip side of the equation, eh? But I'll make you a promise. I vow to come back for you – to find you whatever it takes, war or no war. I can't come with you, but I will make it my mission to find my way to you once more."

Nya stood up and helped me to my feet, our legs throbbing angrily. "I promise," she said without a trace of hesitation, "that I will live for you. I will not give up until you're back in my arms, Sam."

We hugged again, this time with a fierce energy between us. My calloused palms slid over Nya's enviro-suit, noting the textured detailing of the rubber material, the frayed fabric, the worn leather belts, the cold metal clasps.

When Nya regretfully pulled away, our fingers were the last of our bodies to touch, slowly scraping along the other until we parted for good. In a daze, Nya wandered to the door of the apartment, never setting her eyes on anything besides me. I followed her as well, my subconscious hollering at me that I was making a big mistake.

Just before Nya could leave, I managed to utter one final statement from my cracking voice. "Nya?"

She turned around. "Yes, Sam?"

Gulping, I took a deep breath. It was time to say it. It had needed to be said for quite a while. Besides, what else could I hide from Nya after all this?

"Know…" I whispered through fumbling lips, "…know that I love you."

I could not hear the soft cry of joy that Nya made, but I did see her body wobble frightfully in response to my words. For a moment, I had the faintest inkling that Nya would abandon her promise and run straight for me, holding on for the rest of her life. That fateful chance came and went, but not without a very painful look from her as a hard-fought battle had been won. In some way, this made everything worth it for Nya.

"I…love you too," she choked out tearfully before she made one final sob and departed from my presence out the door. Now, she could not change her course. Drained, I sank down to the floor again, everything feeling numb like I had just run a marathon. My extremities felt cold and my skin was clammy from the sweat that sprung up once more. I banged my head uselessly on the cabinets behind me and wondered if I had screwed up by letting that woman slip through my fingers, even though I had gone so far.

It was hard to imagine but I could not help but think that I would never see Nya again.

* * *

My energy sapped, I did not move for quite a while. The apartment felt ten times larger since Nya departed and already I felt sick. I was still questioning whether it had been all right for me to blurt out almost every single solitary secret that I had kept clammed up for years, but with that came a sense of relief that was now duking it out with my misgivings. At the very least, it was probably a good thing that I had opened up to someone, especially since that someone had been Nya. I loved her, I knew that now, and that was why it was so hard to see her go.

It had been the right decision, though. I could not follow her back to the flotilla nor did I want her to give up everything just to be with me. I know the old romance clichés and, outside of films, stuff like that does not work out quite so smoothly in real life. Ask anyone who's ever been in a relationship and they will all tell you that they have experienced problems in the past. Actual couples go through rough patches, they argue and fight, but the best ones still stick together. Was this my rough patch? If so, what was going to happen to Nya and me?

Eventually, I reasoned that I had to lift myself out of this self-deprecating slump and try to look at the sequence of events in an objective and mature manner. What happened this morning was a good thing, I told myself. We may have been heated with our words in the beginning but Nya cracked through my shell so that we could have some actual honest-to-god communication between ourselves. She had done what others in the past could not have – make me feel comfortable around them.

Why was it that I could not tell when I had a good thing until it slipped from my grip? Right now, my basest desire was to just _see_ Nya one more time. Just one more time, that's not being greedy, right? I wanted to hold her, to kiss her, and to tell her that I loved her again. I would have given anything to be able to see past her mask and to see her face for the first time. I wanted to see her actual expression change in response to my words and I wanted to please her and make her feel happy.

Alas…that opportunity was lost. It was all my fault – there's no spinning that any other way. I had made several bad decisions in the past but I felt that this was going to be the one that would haunt me for a long, long time.

After what felt like an eternity, I got around to cleaning up the shards of glass from when Nya had knocked my drink out of my hands. A waste of a decent glass, but she had needed to get her point across so I wasn't sore about the loss of my whisky. The liquor had dried on the stone tiles, turning it sticky, so I wet a rag and dabbed about until I had scoured away the mess. I only just finished when I heard a knock at my door. Quizzical, I walked over to see who it was.

It was Zairn, my salarian neighbor. "Hello there, Sam," the salarian said.

"Zairn," I greeted carefully, unsure of what his being here indicated. For all I knew, he was coming to deliver yet another noise complaint against me. "Is something the matter?"

"Not exactly," he scratched at the base of one of his horns, "but there is a quarian at the lobby entrance asking for you specifically. The doorman's not letting them in and I was instructed to let you know of their presence, in case you knew them."

My head perked up. A quarian? Here? It must be Nya! She came back! I wanted to hug Zairn but I quickly came to my senses and managed a mumbled thank you as I bustled into the elevator, pressing the lobby button repeatedly. Once the doors opened to let me out, I practically bounded out of the box, rushed straight past the main desk and out the doors, only to wheel to a stop in disappointment as a quarian sat up from a bench at the side of the complex in response to my presence, a quarian that wore a _green_ suit and not a gray one.

" _Vhen_ ," I hissed in frustration, groaning inwardly. "How did you find out I lived here?"

The male quarian seemed to have cooled somewhat since our last encounter, but that did not stop the hate in his eyes from burning any less brightly. "Simple. I can access the extranet," he replied very snarkily. "All I need to locate the resident of someone on the Citadel is a first and last name. Conveniently, I happened to know both of yours and it led me here."

"Ironic that you've never used my name when talking to me before," I pointed out. "And you can use a search engine, that's a gold star for you! Get to the point. Why the hell are you here?"

Vhen spread his arms wide. "I've come to collect Nyareth. We've reached the limit of our allocated shore leave and we need to return to the flotilla now. Where is she? Is she in your apartment?"

"She was," I gave a shrug, seemingly bored with the conversation already. "Not anymore."

Oddly, if there was any quarian's expression that I wished I could see right now, it would have to be Vhen's because his posture drooped so much that I felt he would be giving me quite the comical look of exasperation right about now. Perhaps, if that was true, it was a good thing that he was helmeted because I'd probably be getting giggles otherwise.

"Has she been in your apartment the entire night?" he asked, his voice sounding on the verge of cracking.

"Yes," I said slowly, trying to make it seem like I had to think before giving my answer. "I'd say that she has."

"Did…did you _sleep_ with her?"

Once again, I could not stop my unsurprised and mirthless laughter from breaking through. Hell, I _let_ it all come out. "Just stop right there, Mr. Penis Envy. Stop this fucking act right now. You can't fool me into believing that you still care for Nya, especially since she has made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with you. Bear in mind, you _did_ pull a knife on her. What does that really say about your intentions, other than outing yourself as a deranged stalker?"

"Just answer the question. Yes or no?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes in the literal sense, no in the metaphorical sense," I sighed. "Satisfied?"

Very slowly, Vhen shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Not even close."

I absorbed his reply with a pensive nod, making it look like I was considering something. "Good," I growled. "Coincidentally, I am not satisfied either."

There was a tiny moment where everything in the vicinity seemed to go quiet all at once, creating a void of sound in my ear – like a tinny ringing in the absence of stimuli. In that moment, the sound of my racing pulse overpowered everything and I could only hear the blood pounding through my head as I unexpectedly stepped forward and grabbed at Vhen, shoving him backwards and folding him over a garden display so that his back was angled awkwardly. He spluttered, but his breathing was impaired while an angry human – me – pushed him further down onto the hard surface.

"Now listen, asshat," I growled, ignoring Vhen's choked protests. "And listen well. I've had enough of your bullshit that I just can't take one more iota. You've threatened me too many times, insulted me too many times, and have made so many baseless insinuations since we've met that I've ran out of fucks to give. You think you're so entitled to another person, huh? Punks like you have no clue how these things work, do you? Affection is _earned_ , pal, and you've done exactly jack shit on that front. Well, this is me, telling _you_ now to _shut the fuck up_ and stop tormenting Nya."

"I'm…not…" Vhen started to reply before I punched him in the stomach repeatedly. Oh, that felt good. The quarian retched and my face was a mask of pure disgust.

"Even now, you still have the balls to lie to me!" I hissed in his face. "You are, beyond a doubt, the most aggravating person that I've ever come across. That's why Nya doesn't care for you! If you treat people like shit, they're obviously not going to like you."

I could feel Vhen struggling, trying to worm his way out of my grip. In response, I punched him in the gut one last time and fiercely hooked my hands around the quarian's throat, beginning to throttle him but careful not to use my full strength. Vhen gagged, eyes bugging out, and his hands came to my arms, trying to tear them away, but the more he fought, the harder I squeezed, giving him the notion that he was the one controlling his punishment right now, not me.

"I want you to understand something," I said with a bit more patience now. "I'm not one to lie down when people tread all over me. There are some people who like to hurl blows every chance they get and there are some who bide their time and energy, saving those blows for when they need them the most. I'm the one that hits last, do you hear me? I can take whatever you have to throw at me, but eventually you're going to have to realize that there will be someone that will hit back harder and stronger. That person is me, Vhen. And I promise you this, if you disrespect me or Nya one more time, I will kill you. Sound familiar, yes? The difference between me and you is that my threat is not an idle one. Hell, I could snap your neck right now if I were so inclined." I even gave Vhen's throat a squeeze for emphasis.

"But I don't want to break you yet," I said tightly. "I've never killed anyone before in my life and I'd rather not start…but you could be the exception to that. From now on, you act like an adult and think carefully about what you say _before_ you say it, or I will show you a side to me that you would very much regret to witness. Face it tiger, you picked the wrong time to mouth off to me right now because I'm awake, sober, and very, very pissed off."

With that, I released the hold on Vhen's neck and stepped away from him, giving the both of us ample space. Gasping as air flooded his oxygen-starved lungs, Vhen sank to his knees and rubbed at his neck, not meeting my own gaze. When he finally did get to his feet, he was thankfully silent, but his eyes told me that the anger had not left him. If anything, it had been compounded.

"Nya's probably at her ship already," I said in an emotionless tone. "You'll most likely find her there."

Vhen looked like he wanted to get a final word in, but he seemed to consider my own threat and decided against it. He took my offered out and, much to my relief, skulked off. I knew then that I had finally gotten my own personal victory against the man. Sweet, sweet justice. Karma certainly is a bitch.

I waited until Vhen rounded the corner, making sure that he departed for good. With a spring in my step, I headed back inside the complex, not exactly sure what I wanted to do next, but figured that I should collect my thoughts before doing anything else today. It wasn't even midmorning and already I've had two differently intense conversations that caused my blood pressure to rise dramatically.

Back in the elevator, I was the only one going up so I nestled myself into the corner, sighing at the solitude that I now was starting to appreciate. I closed my eyes, relishing the white noise of the elevator humming as it ascended, feeling the vibrations run off from the car to my body. It soothed me, being here, but it did not entirely mitigate the hole that had manifested in me from Nya's departure.

Nya. God, I really did miss her already.

* * *

 **A/N: By far, this was the toughest chapter to write yet.**

 **I had to throw out about half my outline for this chapter as I felt like my initial thoughts did not accurately represent what the characters of Sam and Nya would do and say in such a trying situation, which resulted in a tense four days of writing and rewriting just their argument. Rest assured, the original version would definitely have been much, much worse. Hopefully, I never have to go through another situation like this again where I find myself stuck in a rut, thinking that I wrote myself into a corner. No one likes that feeling, believe me. It isn't fun.**

 **I'm anxious to see how this chapter pans out and to hear your opinions. Hope you enjoy it!**


	17. Chapter 17: City On Fire

Thus my solitary confinement began.

Now I'm not referring to being thrown into an actual cell and forced to be separated from anyone who was living. No, it was a mental prison that I had locked myself into. Me. All my doing. My fault. Because I made one stupid-ass decision that turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Now, no one else mattered except the one person who genuinely understood me.

The months began to crawl by at an agonizing pace since the day that she walked out of my apartment, torturing me with the endless slog of having to go through the repertoire of my daily life all by my lonesome self. Everything had become routine for me, wake up, go to work, do whatever that needed to be done at the hospital, come home, watch television or play video games, and go to bed.

Half a goddamned year of that crap. It was a wonder that I was still sane.

It was just as well that I had the sense to get that job in the first place otherwise I would be spending all my free time drinking, most likely. Besides, the knowledge that I was receiving a hefty stream of income (despite my already ludicrous net worth) helped solidify the fact that I was not deliberately wasting my time. Not to mention the fact that, due to my expertise in my medical field, I was earning constant praise from the office heads. There was even talk about me receiving a pay raise in the future.

Yet, despite my success at work, I would always come home to my empty apartment where the depression would start to sink in once more. Occasionally, I would entertain the idea of selling the apartment in favor of a smaller one, but I had become too used to the place to let it go now. In any case, I did not need to add apartment hunting to the amount of things weighing me down in the back of my mind. I had enough stress as it was.

It was not like my job had become uninteresting. I'll admit, when I would be called into the emergency room every so often to operate on one of an endless stream of patients, I would let myself slip into a zone of concentration. While I inhabited this mental plane, I could relax and think closely on nothing but my work, occasionally whistling a tune as I did so. Performing surgeries was rather cathartic and only now did I realize that my occupation was the only thing keeping me from going crazy out of boredom. Humans are social creatures after all and I was lacking the kind of interaction that precisely classified my species as social. Quite specifically, I was lacking a singular presence that always occupied a portion of my mind, be it large or small.

Nya. She was all I could ever think about. She was all I ever _wanted_ to think about.

I missed her presence, her cheery attitude, her sarcastic quips. I missed holding her, linking our fingers together, kissing her neck to produce moans of need from her end. I fantasized daily about her removing her suit, her face a convenient blank spot in my mind's eye, and subsequently making love to her – so much to the point where the thought of even being with another woman would not cause an iota of arousal. I wanted _her_ and no one else. There was an ache in my chest every time my thoughts went out to her – paining me. I didn't care how much it hurt, I was used to the ache almost as much as I was used to being alone.

But for the first time in my life, I did not want to be alone any longer.

I had told Nya that I had _loved_ her, damn it! Loved her! No longer did I care about my own bullshit rule of me not getting involved in this universe, it was too painful for me to ignore my real feelings any longer. Granted, I was the one who reciprocated those feelings last, after Nya had blurted it out while she was drunk with love, but neither of us could deny it once it had been brought out into the open. There we were, a human and a quarian, acknowledging that we wanted the other, even after I had admitted everything about my sordid past. The suicide attempts, the video game world, I spilled it all for her to absorb. I went all in, as the saying goes. Incredibly, she still wanted to stay even after I had finished pouring out the reasons why I must be a lunatic, despite whatever misconceptions I had about her reaction. That's devotion for you. How could I be so lucky?

And yet…Nya was not with me right now. She was nowhere close to me. She was with her people, gone foraging throughout the galaxy, trying in vain to keep her people alive in the absence of a world to call home, separated by lightyears.

I did not blame her for leaving, but I still wondered sometimes if I should have asked her to stay much more strongly. It was true that she could not just abandon her duties to her people and I understood her reasons for feeling conflicted. After all, outsiders were not welcome on the flotilla – the both of us knew this – so that was why she could not bring me along. Even though she was torn by her duty and from her desire to be with me, she had chosen to go. She had a duty to her people first and I was practically racing for second.

In no way could I vilify Nya for that decision. For all I know, she could be hurting more than I was because the consequences were stacked more heavily upon her than they were for me. All I had to worry about was my mental state; she had to worry about the reactions of her fellow quarians if she shirked her duties to elope with a human. She was the daughter of an exile and I knew that it would break her heart if _she_ had to be exiled as well for not doing her job. It was either a rock or a hard place for Nya and if I had made her miserable for choosing her path, then that would have helped no one and have hurt everyone.

It didn't stop me from missing her, though.

A quarian. A completely different fucking lifeform. An alien that had to be completely sealed inside a suit lest they contract a deadly infection and possibly die from even a single second of exposure to an outside atmosphere. This was someone I felt a significant attachment to. I haven't even seen her face yet and I still loved her. How the hell does _that_ work? I could ask myself a dozen times a minute on what the hell I had gotten myself into, but I would just dismiss my own queries each time. I had fallen and fallen hard.

Despite our separation, I had to count my blessings that Nya and I parted on extremely good terms. When I had tried to blow everything up between us that fateful night, I was expecting Nya to run out of the apartment, sobbing her eyes out. I could have said that I did not love her, that I regretted saving her life, but I found myself unable to even utter such hateful things. Truthfully, I guess I had been seeing too many terrible romantic comedies that I figured that if I was difficult to Nya, that she would get frustrated and leave without me having to admit anything to her. I was just not considering the fact that Nya was an emotional real person driven by logic – she was not going to be fooled so easily and she threw my paltry excuses in my face. In my moment of weakness, she pushed back, backing me into a corner both literally and figuratively. She then stood by me as my defenses cracked, finally exposing how I truly felt about her and explaining to her why I had waited so long to even admit that I loved her.

That was probably what drew me to her in the first place: her complete faith that there was someone good inside of me. She believed in me when no one else even acknowledged that fact. There had never been anyone who had cared to pry into my past before, but Nya wanted to hear it, the good, the bad, and especially the ugly. She wanted to understand me and find out who I was – to give her the full picture. I admired her tenacity and unwavering commitment. I found it incredibly attractive.

That instant when I blurted how I felt about her, just when she was about to leave, had to be the most nerve-wracking moment of my life at that point. It was not because I didn't know how she would react – I knew _exactly_ how she would react! It was because I was afraid for what this would mean for the both of us. What would happen now that I could no longer contain it?

Pain. That was what was happening to me right now. An entire world of pain.

This was nothing like how I felt just before the last couple of times that I tried to kill myself. Back then I felt like I was a survivor adrift at sea with no chance of rescue. Now it just felt like I had been maimed and was crawling along the ground to find my missing limb. Absence was the pain. I craved Nya's company – I needed her.

Throughout the passing months until now, I only had the chance to speak to Nya twice when she was near a comm buoy. Our conversations were simple, neither of us pressing too deeply into what ailed us. I'm sure that we each knew just how good it felt to talk to the other, our shared pain momentarily subsiding. There had been long periods of time during these sparse conversations when we would simply not talk at all, just to listen to the other's soft breathing over our omni-tools. It was not like we had run out of things to say, but that we found each other's voice so calming that the mere notion that we were on the other line had a very soothing effect on our psyches. Besides, we were probably saving the more emotional conversations for when we would finally reunite in person, whenever that was going to be.

Talking over the omni-tools temporarily filled in the hole caused from our rift, but it would never be enough. Not in this current state. I was in a position where everything in my life was finally stable…except my emotional need for companionship.

Maybe that was when Josh asked me to go on holiday with him down to Earth for an extended weekend, I jumped at the chance for some social interaction. I had to acknowledge the fact that I had been sullen and withdrawn lately so I had to concede that some time with a friend could drastically improve my mood.

Boy oh boy, could that ever be farther from the truth.

* * *

"Sam? Oy, Sam! You awake?"

Startled as I realized the voice was talking to me, I shuddered involuntarily, blinking my eyes rapidly.

"Hmm, wha-?" I mumbled as my eyes scrambled around their sockets, trying to get my bearings as my head leaned upon my hand. I eventually focused in on Josh's slightly amused face and the cup of coffee he was not-so-subtly sliding in my direction.

I looked at the steaming cup briefly before I accepted it rather begrudgingly. The brew was bitter and the grounds not mixed properly, but it would suffice for the intended purpose. Josh noted my tired expression and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Get some caffeine in you, bro. It's only eight in the morning and your eyes are drooping."

Thanks for the notice, Captain Obvious. I _know_ that I'm tired, you smug idiot. Although Josh did have a point that I needed the jolt – I get testy without my morning coffee.

"Eight?" I responded sourly. "It may be eight _here_ but I don't take jet lag as well as you do. It feels like it's three in the morning for me. Besides, the current climate is not really conducive towards me putting on a sunny face."

Gesturing towards the large-paned windows for emphasis, I knew that Josh had to concede my point on that matter. I probably would not have picked the city of Seattle to visit for a vacation, especially since I had the power to choose to go anywhere on Earth – anywhere in the galaxy – but for some odd reason, Josh wanted us to deviate to this little rainy corner of the Pacific Northwest when we could have been lying on a hot beach in the Virgin Islands. Instead what we were experiencing now was par for the course for Seattle: overcast skies complete with on and off drizzling. And people wonder why it's hard to be upbeat in this town.

We had arrived in Seattle just yesterday, while we were still bright and chipper, so after we had gotten our stuff put in our hotel rooms we quickly devoted the rest of our time and energy towards taking a short hop to Olympic State Park and wandering around the temperate rainforest. It was odd being in such a dense and moist forest of ancient looking trees and ferns, kind of like I had been dumped straight into Jurassic Park. The peaty trails were squishy underfoot and the air trapped under the canopy was soaked with dew. It was weird seeing so much green here – it was definitely an area of the world that felt completely alive. The scent of pine trees and redwood bark brought back memories of my childhood and I drank it all in, enjoying myself as we proceeded through the park at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately, our lethargy from travelling soon took over, well before I was ready to leave the park as I had wanted to do some more exploring, and we headed back to the city to conk out, exhausted.

The hotel we were staying at was a popular chain owned by the latest descendant in a line of obnoxiously wealthy retail moguls. It was posh and modern, opting for clean and straight lines for the architecture theme rather than adopt a more classical style. Josh and I had separate rooms and they were decked out with the usual accoutrements: vidscreen, comfy bed, granite shower. Thankfully the extranet access was included in the rate, otherwise I would have thrown a fit.

We also had access to the concierge level, which was the location where we were currently eating breakfast for the second day in a row. It was serving pretty much the standard for all hotel breakfasts that had become a practical cornerstone around 2015: the buffet. Scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, omelet bar, fresh fruit, danishes, yogurt, and an assortment of juices were merely a sample of all of the choices available for us to consume. A good promotion for an unhealthy caloric intake. Since I was still affected by jet lag though, my plate was looking rather light at the moment.

My head had been staring out the window when Josh had roused me from my thoughts, making it seem like I was looking out at the Seattle skyline, observing the multitude of high rises, lines of aircars floating above the metropolis, the diminutive Space Needle in comparison to the other buildings around it, and the intimidating snow-capped peak of Mount Rainer far off in the distance.

I managed a half-hearted bite of eggs and polished off my coffee before I pushed my plate away. "I'm done," I announced to no one in particular. I reached into my jacket pocket and withdrew my pack of smokes. "I'm going outside for a break."

"I'll come with," Josh said as he finished stuffing his face. "Mind if I bum one of those off you?" he pointed to my cigarettes.

"Knock yourself out," I muttered as I flipped him one. "These things will kill you, you know."

"Doesn't stop _you_ , does it?" Josh retorted as we headed into the elevator.

"No, I guess it doesn't."

We exited out of the building soon after and congregated near the valet stand, lighting our smokes as we went. The temperature outside was in the fifties, not terribly chilly but cold enough for us to be wearing our jackets. We stood around for a few minutes, alternating between breathing in salty air from the sea and toxic carcinogens from our cigarettes that threatened to rot our lungs. I could feel the first few drops of drizzle bead on my face, causing me to blink.

After exhaling a cloud of smoke, Josh turned to me. "So, was there anything that you wanted to do while we're planetside?"

I was struck by the question. "Why would you ask _me_ that? You were the one who wanted to come here in the first place. I mean, I wouldn't mind going back over to Olympic-"

"Nah," Josh shook his head. "My feet hurt too much. I don't think I'm up for any hiking today."

"Well, you've come to the wrong city. Josh, for god's sake, this is _Seattle_. There are a million options for hiking around here which is one of the main reasons people come to this waterlogged section of the country in the first place. You don't see anyone here trying to get a tan, do you? Waltz around in a two-piece on their way to the beach? No, they'd rather hike up Mount Rainer or trapeze around Olympic State Park to their content."

"Yeah, I know. But I heard that there was this special dispensary in downtown and I wanted to visit it before I forgot."

"A dispensary?" I repeated as Seattle's history came to mind. "As in…a _pot_ dispensary?"

"What else could it be?" Josh said matter-of-factly.

I managed a hoarse laugh before I stubbed my cigarette out on the ground. "You mean to tell me that you dragged me back onto this planet under the pretense of taking a vacation, just to score some _marijuana?_ "

"Didn't take you for a square, man," Josh shrugged. "Jesus."

"It's not that I'm a square," I defended, "but more like the issue is so trivial that I'm astounded. Josh, marijuana has been legal on Earth and in Council space for over a hundred and fifty years! Seattle might have been one of the few places to score that drug legally…back in the 2000s. Now, it's practically in every fucking store on this planet! Why couldn't you just waltz into a shop on the fifth arm of the Citadel and nab some there? That's where all the designer drug huts are located anyway."

"This is _local_ stuff, Sam," Josh emphasized as he pointed his cigarette in my direction. "The synthesized crap on the Citadel is manufactured by the pharmaceutical companies in their controlled environments. The chemical compound on those buds has been altered from the start – right down to the DNA. The best weed is on Earth, especially in Seattle, because the growers actually use real seeds and soil instead of coldly splicing genetic strands together to create a fertilized plant in a nutrient tank."

"You get a green thumb all of a sudden? If I had known that coming here was all about this little errand, I would have just stayed at home. Fuck, if that's truly the case I'm just going to get a lift over to the mountains while you get high and…do you hear that?"

A rumble had begun to reverberate, causing the air to still as subtle vibrations jiggled the ground under our feet. Ash spilled from Josh's cigarette and he looked up at the sky worryingly.

"Thunder?" he guessed. "It is raining, after all."

"No," I muttered as I begun to step out towards the street. "Thunder isn't continuous. It's something else."

I was right, the thunder was not ceasing. If anything, it was getting even louder. Screams of panic from somewhere in the city were rising, typical hysteria for anything out of the ordinary. Only this time, they were warranted as a chill ran down my spine and nausea came to me.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.

I had all of the information to process this moment and I completely blew it off. That must make me the biggest idiot in all of existence. How could I possibly have forgotten? I fucked up. I totally fucked up. I could have easily avoided this moment but I had to be here…on Earth. This was where everything would begin to kick off, the scene of the first sign of trouble.

This was the end.

With a sudden roar, the clouds opened up and a gigantic object shaped like a cuttlefish descended from the heavens, its high velocity shattering building windows in its wake. The screams from the crowd grew ever louder when they saw the object of fear hurtling towards them with no sign of slowing down. Even though I was frozen in place, I managed to recover just in time to yell to Josh, who was still looking at the large object in awe.

" _Get away from the building!_ " I screamed and Josh snapped out of it just in time before everything went to hell.

I was not a witness to the exact moment when the Reaper slammed down on the ground, but the resulting shockwave from its impact occurred less than five seconds after it hit. With the jolt more intense than an average earthquake, I was thrown off my feet and landed heavily on my back. Josh tripped and fell on his stomach and the both of us were deafened by the crashing of windows and the wail of vehicle alarms as their sensors were tripped. Broken glass from the cracked panes tumbled down around me and I covered my head as the clear granules coated me. Plumes of dust and grit were angrily expelled from between the buildings, smothering us and making it hard to breathe.

In addition to the cacophony, I could hear the familiar rendering sound of a Reaper's siren, that rendering noise that sounded like someone was opening a rusting dumpster lid, as well as the hum-snap of a laser warming up and firing from the machine's oculus. Booms from distant explosions joined the din and the dust would part momentarily for me to catch a glimpse of a fiery mushroom bloom from a few blocks away. Thus started the upheaval of society as we knew it.

Our entire world as we knew it was beige from all the dust and we sat up, spluttering as we tried to clear our mouths of the tiny particulates. It was useless trying to beat out the dust from our stained clothes; we were too shell-shocked to be even thinking about that anyway.

There was a slight crumbling sound and I looked back to find a dismal sight. The overhang where people parked their vehicles for the hotel valet had completely collapsed from the mini-quake, crushing a car and several people that had been standing there just seconds before. I stumbled out towards the street, thinking of the people that were lying dead just feet away from me, their bodies broken beyond repair.

"S-Sam," Josh gagged as he staggered around, "wh-what the fuck just happened?"

"Nothing good," I answered as I grabbed my friend's arm, hauling him away from the hotel in attempt to get our minds off of the dead. "We need to leave."

The attack had totally disrupted everything in the city. Traffic stalled, people were wandering outside in confusion, and the wails of emergency vehicles were drowning out the screams of the dying. I coughed some more from the dust and lifted my shirt over my mouth and nose so that I could breathe easier. Josh saw what I was doing and mimicked my movements.

"Where are we going?" Josh asked in his disorientation. He was acting like a kid that had lost his mother in a shopping mall.

I did not have an answer for him. In my head, the only logical place to go was out of a major population center – to get the hell out of Dodge, so to speak. In the event of an invasion, it would be easy to assume that an invading force would automatically go towards areas of high population rather than some random farm in the middle of the country. Leaving Seattle was easier said than done; we were in the middle of a significantly large metropolis, our bearings completely lost, and we had no form of transportation to get us out of the city limits. To put it mildly, we were fucked.

"Anywhere that's not here!" I shouted, regardless of how foreboding the situation was. "The highway! We might find a vehicle there!"

That was just wishful thinking, but that was the adrenaline speaking for me. I had no idea what we might find but, in my head, the place with the largest concentration of vehicles would probably have one in working order. Sounded good to me. We broke into a jog, barely able to see more than ten meters ahead of us in the direction of what we thought was Interstate 5. I was just making the plan up as I went along – being on Earth when the invasion started had not been my original intent. If I had been paying more attention to the actual sequence of events maybe I would have held off on taking Josh's offer. At least I could have hunkered down back in my apartment on the Citadel for a few extra months while I came up with a good enough plan.

Unless I wanted to get killed in the next thirty seconds though, I was going to have to come up with a completely new strategy on the spot.

We reached an intersection but we stopped right in the middle as we heard an unearthly hiss that definitely sounded inhuman. I put my hand on Josh's arm, mostly to make sure that he was right next to me. If I remembered the events of the game correctly, I had an idea of what was out there beyond our sight.

"Josh," I breathed slowly. "Get your gun out."

"Huh?" he asked, looking dumbstruck.

"Just trust me," I said as I slowly withdrew my firearm from my jacket holster with a faint _thwip_ sound. "I don't think we're alone."

Josh flirted with hesitation for a moment but he slowly obeyed and pointed his weapon down the street to our left, facing northwest. No sooner did we finish aiming did a shadow begin to distinguish itself from the choking grit, a humanoid object that had a rather large stagger to its gait. If I concentrated hard enough, I could have sworn that there was a sickly, electric blue hue emanating from the shadow spreading across it like veins.

I thumbed the safety off my pistol and Josh looked at me in shock.

I ignored his confusion. " _Whoever's out there_ ," I shouted towards the form, " _put your hands over your head and walk slowly in our direction or you will be shot!_ "

There was no returning shout of panic, nor did the shadow attempt to put its hands in the air. One would think that an ordinary citizen would have dropped to the ground in pure fright from the threat of being held under a gun. My chest felt tight and my vision blurred around the pistol sights. Josh was visibly shaking, unnerved out of his mind.

"The fuck is going on?" He hissed. "Sam, are you really going to shoot this person?"

"It's not a person," I corrected grimly. "Just be ready to shoot it."

"Shoot _what?!_ Sam, there's no fucking way that I'm going to-,"

" _Shut the fuck up!_ " I hissed, urgently. I could not communicate to Josh the magnitude of what was at stake by myself. He would be finding that out for himself in short order.

With a howl, the shadow suddenly lunged out from the cloud, its arms wildly flailing about. I got a brief glimpse of a gaping maw, a skeletal body that looked like wires were wrapping around and under decaying flesh in a vaguely human shape. Its eyes glowed blue like diodes and claws jutted out where its fingers were.

The old Sam would have hesitated at this point. He probably would have lost his nerve and have let the husk take him. Perhaps he would have wanted that outcome in the first place, for someone else to succeed where he had failed miserably so many times in the past. Such a fate would have meant that he would not have had to suffer throughout the length of the war, to go out just when the holocaust would begin. It would be the death he had always sought.

But that Sam did not exist anymore. He was gone, destroyed with the help of a caring woman, one I had made a promise to.

I wanted so badly to keep my promise than to die ignominiously. Nya was worth it. She was worth _everything_ to me.

It was her who pulled that trigger in my mind.

Almost automatically, I opened fire on the onrushing husk, hitting it at point-blank range. Josh joined in the firing just seconds after I had shot the first bullet, helping me riddle the creature with holes. I was close enough that most of my shots hit the husk. One hit the shoulder socket and its arm flew away, trailing black ichor as the diseased flesh practically disintegrated from the intense kinetic energy. Another bullet to its gut spilled its liquefied organs, creating a black stain on the pavement.

Josh's shots were more precise and the husk fell as its legs were shredded, cracking in half after the hail of bullets withered them away. It was still crawling forward, without any sign that it was in agony, so I stopped firing long enough to aim at the skull of the husk so that I could put a bullet into it. The head cracked open, allowing a mess of blood and brains to fountain in the air. It finally stopped moving after its cranium had been displaced, an enormous hole taking place of what remained of its head. I could smell the acrid tang of cordite in the air mixed with fresh blood – my hands had actually stopped shaking by now. Taking a deep breath, I lowered my pistol so that it was now pointing at the ground.

"You…" Josh whispered in awe as he tentatively approached the corpse. "We killed him…"

" _It_ ," I said without emotion. "We killed _it_."

"What…the…hell…is it?"

I eyed the dead creature dispassionately. "A husk. It used to be a living being once, but it's just a synthetic zombie now. Long dead."

Josh waved his arms in disbelief. "How do you know that?"

"You'll get the full details later," I grunted as I started to jog again. Now was definitely not a good time to describe exactly how I knew everything about our attackers – it would just waste precious time. Besides, everyone would know all about their enemies sooner or later, if they were lucky enough to survive.

As we ran, it occurred to me that the husk was the first thing that I had shot before, yet I was strangely unaffected or horrified at the implication itself. Maybe the reason why I was not emotionally scarred was either because I was in a state of shock, or because I could not dissociate the husks from being anything from video game enemies, ergo I could not see them as living individuals. Technically, they were not really living in the first place so I was not killing anything by shooting them. What little of conscious life they had in the past was long gone – I had practically shot a corpse, technically doing the previous host a favor…but that was most likely my own rationalization so that I would not freak out. I could probably chalk up my unaffected state to being desensitized from all the violent content that I had viewed in my youth, but I still figured that if I killed an actual person that I would be traumatized from the encounter. I was not traumatized now, so what did _that_ really mean?

Nya…god, I want to see you again…

More throaty roars echoed from the cloud, a lot more than we were willing to face. There was no time to consider things further – we needed to leave. As in _, right now_.

Wheeling back toward the freeway, we broke out at a full run, knowing the horrors that were just at our heels. Harsh snapping sounds whipped by our ears, creating miniature shockwaves of sound that felt like there was a change in pressure occurring around me. It was only then did I see the red bolts of crackling energy arcing over our heads, leaving clear trails in the wake of the dust.

We were actually being _shot_ at.

"Fuck!" Josh yelped as a stray shot blasted the pavement near his feet, nearly causing him to lose his footing.

"Don't stop, just run!" I roared, gripping my pistol as I willed my legs to move faster, already going at breakneck speed. Objects even larger than the husks we encountered were beginning to appear seemingly out of nowhere from side streets, singing death chants. Hiss-crackles of gunfire echoed around the urban canyons and we instinctively ducked our heads while we sprinted, not wanting to get our heads blown clean off.

The dust gradually dissipated the further we headed from downtown and I could begin to make out the exit sign at Spring Street that led to the freeway down below. I pointed and hollered an alert to Josh just moments before a Mako tank burst out of the smoke cover from a street perpendicular to the direction we were headed and nearly barreled me over.

I skidded to a stop so quickly that I lost my balance and fell on my ass, bruising it. Inches away from my feet, the Mako's gigantic six wheels rolled impassively by, the turret on top chattering with machine gun fire and occasionally booming as it loosed a mortar in the direction of an unseen enemy. I covered my ears as the gunfire threatened to deafen me, roaring in pain. If I had not stopped running a second late, I would have been roadkill. A war machine like that would have turned me into paste and that would have been all she wrote, ladies and gentlemen.

Josh helped me to my feet as we appraised the sight in front of us. The Mako was not the lone vehicle on the road; there were about a dozen large vehicles all following the tank – a convoy. There were quite a few additional Makos providing covering fire, a few Hammerheads hovering as support units, a bunch of troop carriers shuttling dozens of soldiers each, and several buses that looked like they were carrying civilians in them. An _evacuation_ convoy, I realized. This was it! This was our ticket out of here!

"Holy…" Josh murmured, looking down the road past the straggling vehicles. A bus a few blocks away was completely enveloped in flames – the inferno already charring the frame and exposing the metal chassis underneath. The fire broiled with energy and only grew higher as the hydrogen fuel tank erupted, coloring the conflagration blue and sending a tremendous clap in our direction.

One of the troop carriers pulled off to the side and armored soldiers, looking like gods of war, jumped out and began to form a perimeter. It looked like the convoy was stalled at the moment from being boxed in by enemies, so the marines were doing their damnedest to keep them away from the civilian vehicles by firing their automatic weapons in short, controlled bursts. I saw a few of the Reaper's ground troops practically blown apart by the condensed fire – the fire of the humans was significantly more accurate but I knew that, no matter how skilled they were, we would be overrun by the horde that awaited beyond our view eventually.

I then heard a high-pitched scream off in the distance. It was coming from the other side of the convoy so I quickly darted between two stalled buses, despite the drivers inside hollering for me to get in. A car had become overturned near the freeway exit, and I could see a small child, about six years old, helplessly wandering around. His parents were nowhere to be seen and, to my alarm, a pair of Reaperized monstrosities were approaching from a nearby park, their weapons out and ready.

Goddamn it, this was pretty much the end of my forced bystander role as I knew it. There was no way that I was going to let a little kid get murdered in the middle of the fucking street.

No time to deliberate – action was needed.

" _Hey, assholes!_ " I bellowed, causing the heads of the cannibals to turn in my direction and ignore the child. I fired my pistol twice for good measure, one shot missing completely and the other shot burrowing itself in a husk's stomach, barreling it over. "Look at _me_ , you bastards," I said tightly. "That's right, just look at me."

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?!" Josh cried in alarm from the safety of the buses, but I ignored him. Instead, I ducked from parked car to parked car, shielding myself from the enemies while their shots zinged all around me. An energy bolt punched through the siding of a door just centimeters from my head, causing my jaw to drop open. Perhaps I had finally bitten off more than I could chew. Where did I muster the bravado to even think that I could face armed enemies when the only thing close to real combat that I've participated in was that session down at the Armax Arsenal? Not surprisingly, that faux battle did not come even close to how a battle felt in real life.

The soldiers had heard the commotion by now and turned around to further draw the attention of the enemies away from me. Concentrated fire ripped the cannibals and husks to pieces, allowing me to sprint forward from where I had been taking cover and scoop the child up with an arm. The little guy clung to me tightly, his face too paralyzed with fear for him to be crying. I tried to fire my pistol again to ward off a rushing husk, but nothing happened. It then occurred to me that I had forgotten to eject my spent thermal clip and was essentially holding a weapon that was useless.

It occurred to me then that I just might die here after all, because I had made yet another stupid mistake. I nearly tripped on my own feet as I saw the hunger in the husk's face. I thought of my sister's smile, the feeling of the hot sun on my face, Nya's laugh as she wrapped her arms around me…

Fortunately, the husk's chest burst apart in a flurry of thick goo before my eyes, thanks to three direct hits to the chest. I swiveled my head and saw Josh standing out of cover, his pistol gripped in both hands, the barrel smoking.

"Convoy's leaving!" he shouted to me, trying to shake me out of my paralytic state. "Move your ass!"

Indeed it was, for the soldier were clambering back onto their carriers. The tanks must have cleared the way ahead. Josh had already begun the process of climbing onto one of the glorified pickups and extended a hand as the vehicle slowly began to roll forward. Energized at the scant possibility that I would be left behind, I picked up the pace. Soldiers already on board began to yell their encouragements and I was sweating profusely as I reached the edge of the carrier, handing the child for someone to hoist aboard.

"Come on!" someone was yelling at me as I ran behind the monstrous carrier. "Jump aboard! There's no time!"

Easier said than done, jackass. I've never done something like this before.

Swearing profusely in between desperate gasps of breath, I managed to close the gap and leap aboard the hanging ladder perched just behind the wheels. Just like in the films of old. A helmeted soldier knelt down to help me up and I was about to thank him with all my breath, tilting my head upward, when his head suddenly exploded.

Warm blood coated my face as the remains of the man's head finished misting from the gunshot. I could taste iron in my mouth and my expression slackened as I realized that I could see inside the man's skull. His brains were mush, looking like raw ground beef, but I only had a split second to fully comprehend the grisly sight before his body lazily toppled over the side, nearly taking me with it.

A bullet smacked into the armor plating near my arm, but I didn't react. It felt like a hot, wet mask was covering my face and I dimly felt urgent hands of the rest of the soldiers hauling me aboard. Josh sat across from me, petrified, and I shakily tried to wipe the blood from my face, my hand coming away dark red.

"God…" I muttered incoherently, already feeling the liquid begin to dry. "God…"

"Civilian!" a harsh voice barked over the chatter. It took me a while to realize that the voice was referring to me when a hard-faced captain maneuvered around his men to kneel down in front of me. He gave me a once-over and shook my shoulder hard. "Don't go catatonic on me right now, you son of a bitch. I don't need no deadweight around."

"F-Fine…" I managed as I numbly pried a sticky piece of brain from my hair. This carrier was improperly cushioned and I was now beginning to get an ache in my back from all of the bumps the vehicle was going over. "I'm…I'm fine…"

"You sure as hell don't look it. You'd better hope to Christ there's a doctor in one of those buses otherwise you're just going to have to man the fuck up."

I gathered my inner strength just in time to shoot the man a glare. "I…I _am_ a doctor. Arthroscopy and sports injuries."

"No shit?" the captain raised an eyebrow. "Then I can't tell if it's your lucky day or your unluckiest, because there's no one around to treat _you_ if you go into shock."

"I'm not useless yet," I gritted as I sat myself up. "Just…just give me a stim and some water. I'll be good to go then."

The captain waved for someone to pass over a medical kid hooked onto the wall. He opened it up and broke out a little white pill. Standard combat stimulant – packed with enough vitamins, caffeine, and other potentially unhealthy compounds to heighten the mind of a standard ground unit. It also helps stave off the onset of shock by alleviating any complications with blood pressure. I gratefully took the pill and took a hearty swig of water from someone's canteen.

Sighing in relief, I adjusted myself on the seat. "Tell me something, captain," I grimaced as I began to wipe my face clean. "Where the hell is this convoy going?"

"That's classified, sir." I couldn't tell if the twitches in his stoic face were meant to be taken as apologetic or something else entirely.

"You don't have to give me details," I muttered, exasperated. "Just tell me…what is the plan?"

The captain chewed the inside of his cheek and looked around in case anyone was eavesdropping. He then lowered his face close to mine and whispered, "We're taking the 5 south out of the city and using one of the smaller highways to go west. Bogeys already blew most of the bridges. Sea-Tac is already reporting major damage. An air extraction here is impossible. Our only objective right now is to get as many people as we can away from major population areas and hope that we can eventually link up with more survivors in due time."

I stared back at the captain, trying to read his expression for any additional clues. I thought about mentioning London in an off-hand manner, but that would probably not have worked. The plan he listed was a solid one and it did seem like it was going to put us out of harm's way for the moment. In the end, that's pretty much all that I would ask for.

"That's…that's good," I managed breathlessly as I clutched my chest. "Thanks, captain."

"Captain Lewis." The man cracked a sad smile and clapped me on the arm in a manner a marine would call affectionate. "Rest up then, Doc. The rest of the days are not going to be quite so easy, so get to 110% an hour ago."

" _Doc_ , is it?" I gave a mirthless chuckle. "I guess that's technically correct."

"You have a name that I'd rather call you?"

I gave a shrug. "If you want to call me Doc, that's fine. Most people just call me Sam."

"Well, Doc," Captain Lewis said dryly, "I'd prepare yourself because you're going to have your work cut out for you very soon. We need all the doctors we can get, no matter what their focus is, so don't lose your head."

"Like that will ever happen," I retorted under my breath, Nya on my mind. Damn it, I could still hear her charming laugh in my head. I could still feel her gloved fingertips brushing over my face.

Josh whistled as we rounded a corner on the nearly deserted highway, now able to see the devastation of Seattle itself. Holes in skyscrapers poured smoke, several VTOL aircraft hovered over sites of conflict, and towering monstrosities built of metal spat their deadly beams and howled their deafening songs. Nary another expression save for grim defeat hung on the faces of the soldiers in the carrier. The cold wind whipped at our clothes and I zipped my jacket up almost unconsciously, the blood beginning to stiffen around my features.

"Hell of a vacation, eh?" Josh said somewhat flippantly, which earned him a swift punch from one of the soldiers who had overheard his snarky comment. Josh yelped as blood gushed from his nose and he desperately pinched it to stem the flow.

Having witnessed the entire exchange, I could only shake my head.

"One of these days, Josh, you're going to have to learn to shut the fuck up."

An hour later, we had reached the limit of the metropolis, the last of the city glimmering from the light of the setting sun. There was no going back to what had been normality for me before. There would be no more comfy beds, no more busywork at the hospital, no more chances to carry out a nondescript life.

Maybe…no more opportunities to see Nya again.

I promised her, I reminded myself as I held my head in despair while being bounced around in this stuffy troop carrier. I promised Nya that I would be there, no matter what it took. Through hell or high water, I would give it my damnedest to be there! The luxury of quitting was not a choice I could stomach, nor was it available to me. As long as I was alive, as long as breath can be drawn in my lungs, I would fight for her.

I guess the time had come to put my devotion to the test. The war had finally begun.

* * *

 **A/N: Thus Sam's unlucky streak continues. He literally cannot catch a break. Then again, a story without any sort of conflict is not an interesting story.**

 **The drama is going to get a little more visceral now that Sam is in the thick of things, so the stakes are going to raise significantly for our protagonist. Don't worry, he's not going to become a fearsome warrior of the sort - he's still going to have that whole "fish out of water" vibe about him, so that will play into his reactions for trying to survive a war. He'll still be the same sloppy fighter that we've known from the start - after all, he's only a civilian. That will create some interesting scenarios for Sam to face.**

 **And to Cheesehead2000: I'm just going to say "Yes." As to which part of your question that answer refers to, I'm going to choose not to elaborate. Heh, heh, that just makes things more fun! (For me.)**


	18. Chapter 18: Threnody for a Dying Planet

This had to be, without a doubt, the worst turn ever taken while I was on vacation. Bar none. Amazing at what an invasion of killer robots can do to completely mess up your life. As such, I had no home, no real job, and not even a comfy bed to sleep in anymore. My life straight up sucks again.

At least I wasn't bored, though. Silver linings and all that…

If could have predicted some of the locales in which I would be practicing my orthopedic profession, I know for a fact that I would not have guessed that I would be doing just that on a park table right on the side of a highway in the middle of fucking nowhere. Quite the change from a sterile operating room. Add _that_ to the total of unpredictable occurrences in my life, why not?

I carefully eyed the face of the woman I was attending to, noting the tiny changes in her expression as I worked dispassionately. She was trying very hard to not let her discomfort show by putting on a brave face, but I could tell despite her best efforts that she was in some sort of pain. Nothing I could do about that, though. All of the anesthesia was reserved for combat wounds in dire need of medical attention under orders of Captain Lewis, not standard cuts and scrapes which was what this current injury qualified under. At least I had some disinfectant on hand.

The woman, Audrey, grunted as the tip of my needle plunged into the skin of her arm and back out, trailing a black thread behind it. Blood oozed from the punctures and I quickly wiped it off. I was about halfway done with the stitches and was impressed that Audrey had not been worrying her head off. Many people have phobias about needles and to be so stoic during stitches, especially without any topical anesthetic on my hands, was rather rare to behold. Even so, it did not look like Audrey was enjoying the experience.

"You sure…" she said in between measured breaths, "…that there isn't any medi-gel to go around?"

This was the second time she had asked that. To her, stitches were probably considered a barbaric form of medical care as wounds these days were either treated by automated machinery or topical solutions. To me, this was basic first-aid 101. Sometimes the old ways were the most effective as I, the living fossil, can attest to.

"Pretty sure," I answered in a monotone. "Captain Lewis was quite specific on the rationing. Besides, you're only getting stitches so it's not like I'm sawing your arm off. Suck it up."

Audrey hissed as I tightened the stitches by pulling gently but firmly on the thread. She was not a soldier like most of the people around me, but just one out of dozens of civilians that had been escorted out from Seattle alongside me, now unofficially roped into the service as a way to extend support in whatever way possible. As a former mechanic, Audrey was now part of the convoy's repairmen crew as her skills with machinery were laterally related to working with large tanks like the Mako, despite her having no experience in that particular sector. She had been working on trying to fix a problem with a Mako's coolant system earlier today when a taut tube had snapped and whipped her across the arm, gashing the skin deeply. Naturally, being the only person in this sorry brigade with any recent sort of experience in sewing people up, she had come to me for assistance.

Audrey was not paying for this service, obviously. It was not like I could charge her, either. After the Reapers had attacked almost every single major city on the planet, the need for currency among the two hundred of us (three buses worth, plus six troop carriers, two Hammerheads, and four Makos) became rather irrelevant. Now, our professions were all based on a system of the direct worth we could bring to the group. As a currently practicing doctor, I had been tasked with the duty of patching everyone up – the de facto medic for the convoy. There had been no one amongst the soldiers with that kind of experience, for if there were I'd simply be running backup, but this was the reality we faced and thus I became responsible for the physical welfare for everyone around me.

Oh joy, more responsibilities.

Wordless as I began to wrap up the stitching, I saw Audrey's face start to relax as she saw that she would not be punctured by the needle again. The wound, which had been torn wide open, now looked like a simple cut, albeit with a bunch of stitching in the way. I knotted the thick thread, cleaned the last of the blood off, and looked at Audrey to confirm that I was done on my end.

"All right," I proclaimed, mentally congratulating myself on my handiwork. "You are free to go, Audrey. Anything feel out of the ordinary?"

Audrey gave a dry laugh as she flexed the fingers on her hand. "I feel like Frankenstein's fucking monster," she grimaced as she traced the stitches. "Ah, well. Better my arm than my face, right? I'm still too young for my looks to go to waste."

I laughed along with her, although I was doing it more nervously. Audrey was not someone I'd call pretty – she looked more like a gas station attendant so I was not entirely sure if that quote was supposed to be sarcastic or completely serious.

Still clutching her arm, Audrey stood up and began to walk over to the section of the highway rest stop where the Makos were parked, determined to begin work anew. I grabbed the needle that I had used to sew Audrey's arm up and washed it in an alcohol-soaked cloth. Only the best materials from a mass-produced first-aid kit.

As I started to put my things away, I became aware of a shadow approaching from behind me. Maybe Audrey had more questions for me. I turned around to find, not Audrey, but the tall form of Captain Lewis decked out in full combat armor behind me. The FOF tag-lights blinked red and white intermittently and he carried a combat shotgun on his back. If I had not already known that he was a marine, clean-shaven with a buzz cut, then I probably would have pegged him more for a cosplayer than an actual soldier.

Then again, this technically was the future. What looked far-fetched back in the day was the norm now.

"Glad to see that everyone is being looked after well, Doc," Lewis commented as he watched Audrey depart.

I got up from the table, medical kit in hand. "It helps that since Seattle we haven't gotten shot at a whole lot. I mean, how many life-threatening injuries can you get fixing up tanks and such?"

"A fair point," Lewis mused in a far-away tone. "How are you holding up, Doc? It's been a few days since the attack and a lot of people have broken down in that time. Got a lot of psych majors not wanting for something to do around here, let me tell you. You appear to be doing fine, at the very least."

"That concerned about my well-being?"

"I just want to make sure that the people around me are not going to crack anytime soon. It's not easy trying to manage this many that aren't soldiers – one less person for me to worry about makes a world of a difference. Especially knowing that you're all mentally fit. You're too valuable to us in case you go down in hysterics."

The praise fell on deaf ears for I was considering what Lewis said earlier, that I was holding up among the civilians when most were not. I'm just going to take a wild guess and say that the fact that I knew this eventuality would come to pass was the reason why I was taking the potential extinction of humans so well. At least I was still subscribing to the theory that things would turn out right in the end – if Shepard's path to victory was still in play. Whether or not I was going to live to see the end was a completely different story, as was the fate of Nya.

Christ, I don't even want to think about that possibility at all.

Before I could stare out into space to worry the captain, I managed to collect my attention enough to elicit a response. "Don't worry about me, captain. I'm not going to lock up on you any time soon – too much effort to go into conniptions. In any case, was that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"As a matter of fact, there was more that I had in mind. Come with me."

Dutifully I followed, not because I had no choice, but because I really had nothing better to do. There was no current queue for my services of slapping band-aids on people, so I might as well humor the man as well as my wandering mind. Lewis led me past the three buses at the far end of the rest stop, shaded from the large trees planted at the turn of the century, over to where the Makos and Hammerheads were parked as well as where the entirety of the soldier company was congregated. Between us I was able to get a glimpse of the completely barren field that adequately served as a visual reference for just how flat and deserted the state of Idaho was.

To say that the day Seattle fell was a disaster was an understatement at best, but at least I had made out with my life. On the other hand, I was now roped into this military-led convoy, hiding from the enemy at every turn so that we could prolong our survival. There were no shuttles in the area to exfiltrate us off-planet, so we had to rely on the traditional methods of ground transportation to ferry us to…well, wherever the hell we were going.

To be honest, I don't even think there was a particular destination in mind for where we were headed.

The convoy managed to escape the madhouse that was the Seattle suburbs, as a lot of the highways had been littered with abandoned cars that blocked several of the lanes. In order to avoid the terrible traffic that had accumulated with people trying to evacuate, the convoy had been forced to take several back routes that ended up winding through the nearby mountain range to exit onto the plains on the other side. From there, we just kept on heading east.

With Seattle long behind us, our convoy had been the only set of vehicles actually on the road. People had scattered in all directions like roaches when the lights were turned on, confused as to where to go. Some unlucky souls tried going to the closest major cities of Portland, Boise, and Vancouver, but radio broadcasts indicated to us that those cities had been devastated as well, demonstrating just how systematic the Reapers were. Since waltzing into a heavily populated city was a no go for us, the convoy was practically forced to set up shop in the middle of an Idahoan field for safety with nothing but flat farmland, a few aimless barns, and scattered trees to look at. As someone who prefers the life in a city, this was like falling into hell for me.

Lewis took me around the side of a Mako where there was a weapons bench all set up, complete with disassembled armor pieces organized like a three-dimensional puzzle. He lifted the chest piece – a tired and scratched looking thing – and held it up so that I could get a good look at it.

"What do you think?" he asked me.

I honestly don't know where he was going with this or what he expected me to say so all I managed was a halfhearted shrug and an "ehh" noise from my mouth.

Lewis then tossed the chest piece to me. I had to drop the medical kit in my hands so that I could catch the piece of armor. "It's yours now, along with this rifle."

I then proceeded to drop the armor as well. "Wh…wh…what?" I stammered, certain that there was some kind of mistake. "What do you mean 'mine?'"

"Look, Doc," Lewis raised a hand, "I'm not going to feed you bullshit here. The situation right now is a disaster. Like it or not, we're at war – a war that we as a species are not prepared for. Our fighting forces are scattered and have no direction. We need every man and woman of fighting age that we can get to forestall our destruction. You're valuable to the cause with your current duties, yes, but that does not exempt you from at least taking a defensive role."

"You're…" I shook my head, trying to wrap my head around it. "…So let me see if I have this straight. You're _drafting_ me into the service?!"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Do I have a problem?" I repeated incredulously. As I rubbed frantically at my face I noted unconsciously that I needed to trim my beard. "Look, captain, it's been bad enough that you tasked me to be your so-called medic as your company is apparently woefully understaffed, mostly because you're expecting me to be more knowledgeable about medicine than I'm prepared for! I deal in _arthroscopy_ , not trauma or vascular surgery! You're indicating that I'm going to receive an influx of people with injuries that I won't be able to heal and I've made that pretty fucking clear that I'm pathetically limited in my experience with that!"

"Despite your qualifications? Your doctorate?" Lewis crossed his arms.

"I – did – not – sign – up – for – this!" I growled, stressing each syllable. "I didn't ask to be given this job at all! Now you're coming to me and throwing me this shit, saying that what I'm doing is not enough? That you expect me to grab a gun and start shooting right away?"

Now Lewis turned stern. "We're not giving out fucking freebees here, Doc. You're not above anyone else in this regard. Or do you think that you can last a lot longer on your own?"

"No! It's just…" I frantically ran a hand through my short hair. "I…I…no. No, no, no! I can't do it!"

"Can't or won't?"

"Both!" I blurted. "I'm not a fucking soldier, captain. Just because I can heal a person does not mean that I can kill them just as easily!"

"You're not going to kill people. From all reports you will only have to shoot possessed puppets only kept alive from extensive cybernetic modifications."

"Oh, and I'm sure that'll make a fucking _world_ of a difference!" I snarled sarcastically. "Don't try and tell me that there's a distinction between the two – because we both know that it's fucking miniscule! Besides, I have no military training that can be useful. I'm a terrible shot, my cardio is comparatively shit, and I…I… _I'm no fucking soldier!_ "

Lewis just shook his head in exasperation, doing an admirable job of keeping his anger under control. "You're not going to be running any offensive operations. Think of yourself as the member of a militia, only concerned with the defense of civilians. That sounds like a nobler goal, no?"

Hysterical laughter began to creep up my throat and I threw my arms out to the side. "I'd rather be a goddamn military _chaplain_ , sir! I don't subscribe to the faith but I'll preach it if that gets me off the front lines!"

Lewis looked like he was getting more annoyed at my lip and rightfully so. A grunt under his command would have gritted his teeth and obeyed. I was not part of the military, therefore I was not under his jurisdiction so I could argue my point all I liked. In his eyes, I was probably just this naïve young fool that was hesitant at getting his hands dirty when, in fact, there were bigger issues at hand. He probably wanted to slap me silly.

"Here are the cold hard facts," Lewis said slowly and deliberately. "Everyone on this convoy that we have spoken to and that fits the minimum requirements has pledged their support wholeheartedly. Even your somewhat delinquent friend has agreed to our terms. To be truthful, we've had a few holdouts like you but they've all come around eventually once we've explained the consequences of their choice to them. The fact of the matter is this, if you don't agree to support your fellow humans in a combat role, you will not be part of this convoy and will be left behind.

"The convoy that doesn't even have a solid destination in mind?" I countered, momentarily ignoring the implied threat.

"It's the choice of having strength in numbers or by forging it alone. The alternative is frankly worse for you than it is for us, but we need everyone to be on hand if we are going to have a chance at survival. That's just the way it is. I didn't want the situation to come to this but it's like this all over the world – all over the _galaxy_ , even. We need to be as prepared as possible so that we aren't caught off guard at the worst possible time. That means your participation could mean the difference between victory and defeat."

I was slowly losing my will to resist. The captain was making valid points, I had to begrudgingly agree, but the thought of becoming militarized still scared me. I did not want to go off to war and play soldier, I wanted a way to find Nya and hunker down in a hidey-hole to await out the war.

The thing was, I could have a chance at finding Nya if I stuck with the convoy. Alone, I was as good as dead.

Crossing my arms, I made an attempt to make it look like I was fuming. "Do I have to wear the armor?"

"That's completely up to you," Lewis shrugged. "But you should consider the fact that the possibility of getting shot at has increased dramatically compared to what you've been previously used to so if you want to reduce the chance of having your organs blown out of your body, you should probably put it on."

Man, do all soldiers have such a gloomy personality?

"Give the fucking thing here, then," I growled as I held out an arm like I was begging for a food ration. Lewis tossed me the rest of the set and I nearly dropped it for it felt like it weighed over half my body weight. Without a shred of immodesty, I stripped down to my undershirt and boxers, glaring at Lewis the entire time. I put on a set of slightly baggy olive fatigues that made me look like I was about to head off on a safari expedition instead of a war. With the undergarments applied, I began to put the armor on.

The armor itself was not a full-body set, like Captain Lewis'. Instead, it was a collection of guards and pads that were fully separate from another – shin and calf guards, armbands, and a chest piece that went over me like a vest. I had to strap the armor pieces tightly around my limbs, almost to the point where I was cutting off circulation to those areas. According to the captain, they were made out of a material that could stop a slug at full speed given the appropriate circumstances.

He did not mention that for that to happen, I would need to have my shields up at a specific percentage and that the structural integrity of the armor had to not be compromised in any way. Oh well, the more you know…

When I had finished suiting up, I thought that I looked ridiculous. Not to mention that it was significantly harder to breathe and that I did not have the full range of motion on my arms anymore, courtesy of the chest piece's goddamn shoulder pads. Lewis gave me a once-over and I could have sworn that the ghost of a smile brushed over his face for a moment.

"Any discomforts?" he said in a completely serious manner. Anyone else would be snickering were they not military.

"I'd feel more comfortable if I was assigned to be a gimp at a fucking S&M club," I snarled with a hearty dose of vinegar.

"You'll get used to it. The sarcastic quips should trail off in a few hours as well."

"Fat fucking chance," I blurted, uncaring that I was technically giving a superior officer quite the attitude. My penchant for swearing was uncharacteristically high today, I noticed. Apparently I curse a lot if stressed as a coping mechanism, but that really should not excuse my behavior. If my old man had seen me cussing out a military officer he probably would have had a heart attack. Still, I was technically not enlisted.

Lewis just gave a singular tic of his mouth and motioned to me to follow with a jerking motion of his head. We headed past the wide open area of the rest stop toward the farthest table – the sloppily designated armory, judging from the wide array of weapons laid upon it. Lewis picked up a rifle that looked like someone welded two curved pieces of steel together and just added a handgrip at the bottom to create a gun. It was the kind of weapon that would not have been made back in 2015 as such guns were only manufactured to be as functional as possible. This weapon right here was just as fashionable as it was functional – a cardinal sin of engineering.

"Are you familiar with this?" Lewis indicated as he looked at the gun in his hands and back to me.

Unfortunately, I was still trying to be as difficult of a person as it was humanly possible. "Let me think for a bit. Is it a back massager?" I drawled as I comically squinted my eyes to give the impression that I was thinking really hard.

Looking back, I have to give Captain Lewis all the credit in the world for putting up with my shit. Anyone else would have smacked me upside the head, fed up with my nonsense. Lewis was the sort of person that was unflappable to people like me and he was just waiting for my bad attitude to eventually burn itself out so that he could be the one to wrest control of the conversation.

He just elected to ignore my previous utterance. "This is an M-8 Avenger assault rifle," he explained before he held the weapon out for me to take. "40 round clip, 400 max ammunition. Two modes of firing: automatic and semi-automatic. Auto is used for suppressive fire in most cases while semi-auto is generally used for precision shots. Got two triggers in the grip – first is for primary fire, the other is-,"

"-For concussive shots," I finished as I grabbed the weapon impatiently, letting it hang limply at my side. "Yeah, I know. This is the same spiel that a clerk gave to me when I was buying my first pistol."

"The reason why I'm saying it again," Lewis said evenly, "is because you claim to be such a poor shot that I'm left wondering just how much you _do_ know about firearms."

I did not know if I should be insulted by that or not. "Just because I can't hit the broad side of a barn does not mean that I don't know how to pull a fucking trigger."

"Quite right, which is why I've brought you over here. You see that scarecrow off in the distance?"

Lewis pointed beyond the barbed wire fence out to where a vaguely familiar shape stood above waist-high stalks of corn about a hundred yards away. I began to see what Lewis had in mind for me and I nodded.

"Before you go shooting it, though," Lewis interjected, "let me see you assume the proper firing position."

Somewhat quizzical, I dutifully complied, bringing the rifle up to bear. Almost immediately, Lewis grabbed the weapon and shoved it back down, shaking his head.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong. You need to shove the stock against your shoulder for stability. Also, tilt your head so that you're aiming down the sights. This isn't the movies – no one fires from the hip here."

"So I guess I should forget about using pistols akimbo style?" I added mischievously.

Lewis now chuckled. "You got it. Now, try to hold the gun properly again and see if you don't cock it up this time."

Unable to come up with a clever retort this time, I gritted my teeth and complied, a small part of me wishing that I had been shot dead in the streets the other day instead of roasting my ass off while wearing this heavy armor underneath the sun. Sweat was starting to accumulate in places that I'd rather not mention, but it seemed that voicing these complaints to Lewis would garner me nothing more than an unsympathetic look followed by an unrelated command.

After checking out my stance and helping me position myself so that I looked somewhat like a combat-ready marine, Lewis finally stepped away after pronouncing me…adequate. The word was huge praise to me regardless.

"All right, Doc," Lewis pointed towards the hapless scarecrow perched all lonesome in the distance. "Knock 'em dead."

Taking that as my cue, I braced for the onslaught upon my ears and pulled the trigger, the resulting crackles from the weapon so loud that it sent nearby crows flying away to seek peace and quiet.

* * *

An hour later my impromptu boot camp concluded rather anticlimactically as a sergeant began hollering for everyone to board their designated vehicles. The convoy was departing once again. Right before that had happened, Lewis had been working with me one-on-one on proper weapon techniques, making sure that if I was going to handle a weapon, I would not be shooting one of our own guys in the ass accidentally. Redundant teachings, yes, but it gave Lewis peace of mind that there would not be any screw-ups from me. That would be the last thing the both of us needed.

Lewis' extraordinary patience was yet again tested as he gave me a few pointers on how to correct my sloppy aim. I had unloaded several clips worth in the direction of the poor scarecrow within the hour, but my hit percentages were still relatively abysmal compared to the norm. Still, from the tips that I was given, it was an improvement on my end. If I had more time to hone my craft, I daresay that I could even be a crack shot…in ten years' time at this rate. At least I was not completely useless.

Still, my self-esteem was not exactly improved by this training session so by the time I clambered onto one of the transports with my fellow civilians-turned-soldiers, I was not exactly in the best of moods.

We were crammed into this white truck that had been mass-produced and built by the lowest bidder, sitting on cushions so hard that our asses started throbbing within minutes, with barely any wiggle room as we were squashed together like sardines. The fact that we were still wearing our combat armor was not helping matters either. Not to mention that we had our backpacks containing everything we needed thrust between our legs, jamming them wide open. No wonder people cramped all the time.

Inside these backpacks, we carried only a solitary change of clothes (provided by the military, of course), a scant few toiletries to ensure that cavities were going to be the last thing that we needed to worry about, a week's allocation of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), and a rolled up sleeping bag stuffed into the top portion of the pack. Just the bare essentials for someone like me to survive. I guess I should be thankful.

As the convoy rumbled down the highway, everyone inside jolted in time to the bumps on the road. We all tried our best to stretch out without accidentally brushing too hard against one another. Intelligent creatures though we might be, it's still awkward to intrude into someone's personal space by mistake.

At least the person next to me was a familiar face. Josh was chewing on a stick of gum, his expression oddly pensive at the moment. He elbowed me in the ribs, wanting to make small talk. "Saw Lewis take you over for some target practice this morning. How'd that go?"

"How do you think?" I grumbled in my usual temperamental manner. "You've seen how I shoot before. It went terribly."

I was hoping that my curt responses would indicate that I was in no mood to talk. However, this was Josh that we were talking about – a man completely oblivious to all subtlety.

"Well, look at it this way," Josh gave a sheepish smile while he incessantly chattered on. "I've read that when people are under intense pressure, they tend to focus a lot more strongly. It has to do with the adrenaline in your blood stream. So maybe, if you're getting shot at for real like back in Seattle, you'll be a hero on the battlefield. Just like an action movie star!"

"You do realize that those films are make-believe, right?" I sighed. "In real life, if fifteen people are shooting at one guy with machine guns – like in every single movie ever made, that one guy is going to be riddled like Swiss cheese. Besides," I tried to shift my position as one of my legs was starting to fall asleep, "the only reason why I didn't freak out in Seattle was because I had no choice other to defend myself. If you remember correctly, I still couldn't hit anything worth a damn unless they were five feet in front of my face. It's the job of soldiers to carry out war – I should not have to get this involved."

"Just consider it a patriotic duty. You're not one of those conscientious objectors or anything like that, so why are so uptight about it?"

"Uptight?" I barked out a singular laugh. "My only goal right now is to take the least risks as possible now that I realize that any of us could be killed at any minute. Kind of had something to do with that invasion, remember? I know you're trying to make me feel better, Josh, but your poor analogies are not making a bit of difference so please, unless you have something useful to say, _shut your fucking mouth the fuck up_. Pretty please."

Josh made a face that looked like a contorted grimace. "Wow…o-okay. Guess _someone's_ on their period today."

"I swear to Christ that if my arms weren't limited in motion from this damn armor, I would break your jaw."

The man finally shut up as he got the message that I was in no mood to play games right now. I did not need to be constantly reminded of my piss-poor shooting technique, nor did I want someone chatting my ear off five minutes into this journey. Actually, all I wanted at this moment (besides lying next to a certain someone in a comfy bed) was the chance for me to nod off and doze throughout the drive until we reached…wherever we were going.

I could not even be granted that as the man across from me, a certain fellow by the name of Neil, chose this time to pipe up. "Why do you think that's bad?"

Inwardly groaning, I cracked open an eyelid. "What?" I asked, hoping for more clarity.

With a shaking hand, Neil brushed some of his red hair from his face. It struck me at just how young the man was. I'd be surprised if he was older than twenty –just a kid. Like me, he had his own set of armor, plus a rifle, but his I was willing to bet that he was even more nervous than I was due to his lack of experience with any and all things combat-related.

"I-I mean," the kid stammered, "What are you expecting? L-Look at us. All of us in this truck. We aren't soldiers. Most of us have never held a gun in our lives. So, why is it bad that you aren't automatically as good as they are when you haven't been training as long as them?"

The kid had a point and that struck me. Consciously, I glanced around the cabin of the troop carrier to see if his words truly had merit. I flickered my gaze across sad-looking men, obviously nervous as they wrung their hands or gulped hard like they were swallowing their fear back down. The women who were in the truck as well did not look like they were trained for any of this, which led me to try and distinguish if there were any soldiers in this truck at all. It turned out that there were, only four of them near the hatch at the rear of the vehicle. I could tell based on their constant gazes of vigilance plus the fact that they were gripping their weapons in the safe position, well away from any of us as they sat amongst us – the militia.

Considering Neil thoughtfully, I tilted my head. "How old are you?"

"I'm…I'm nineteen."

"Nineteen," I repeated before I shut my eyes. Still young. Jesus. "And how did you get mixed up in this?"

"Had no choice," Neil replied like the answer should have been obvious. "I'm a 'displaced refugee' just like everyone else here."

"College educated?"

"University of Oregon. My…my family lives in Tacoma."

"Good," I nodded as I gestured in my direction. "I'm a Stanford man, myself. I'm only asking to prove a point, so I hope you'll bear with me. It seems like, from what I've noticed, is that a good majority of young people today tend to forgo college for a career in the military. I mean, free education, room, board, and the chance to serve your planet and race is probably the best deal that one could hope for. That's probably why military enrollment is the highest it's ever been. Also, thanks to the state of the media, the military has been glamorized in countless video games and movies as being a career option that's 'cool' and caters to the stereotypical male mental image in order to associate war with a testosterone rush."

Neil absorbed that and gave a sage nod. "I have noticed that as well, especially in the advertisements that encourage people like me to give everything up and join the army simply 'because it's right.' But what does that have to do with being a lousy shot? I'm probably worse than you and I've never held a gun before until now."

"It's a twofold problem," I indicated as I leaned forward. "The first part is purely psychological. I don't fit the mold of a stereotypical soldier because I can hardly shoot. I'm an outlier, an anomaly. In my head, I'm failing my own criteria for being useful in this current predicament. That wouldn't be so much of a problem if it weren't for the fact that all of us need to be able to aim a gun nowadays lest we all die. There's pressure among us to perform and I don't want to be the weak link in the chain."

"But why the desperation, Doc?" a sandy haired man a few years older than me said. Damn, the nickname was spreading.

A woman of about the same age leaned next to him which, adding in the fact that I've always seen them together, indicated to me that they were involved in some way, either physically or romantically. Perhaps both. I knew that his name was Andrew and hers was Caleigh, but other than that I knew nothing else about them.

"What desperation?" I said as casually as I could muster. "What makes you think that I'm desperate in any way other than potentially fighting for my life? That should be reason enough for me to worry, let me tell you."

"Something else, I wager," Andrew waggled a finger slyly. "You're not scared shitless, Doc. You're over-exaggerating your fear. Calculating the options within your control."

"Like I have any control at all," I spat. "These days I'm being told what to do, what to eat, where to sleep, and so on. And so what if I'm playing up my anger? Is that really so significant?"

Andrew shrugged. "Take it from me, I think that you're driven by something other than the fear of dying. Are you, by any chance, married?"

I blinked. That was an odd segue. "What? No."

"Girlfriend? Maybe…boyfriend?"

My expression did not change but Andrew did seem to detect that he had struck a chord when I failed to respond almost immediately. For a few moments, no one said anything, just us staring at the other while the truck rocked our bodies back and forth.

"No to the last, yes to the first," I finally admitted somewhat begrudgingly.

"That's it, then," Andrew crowed triumphantly. "You're just worried about getting to see your lady again."

My 'lady,' eh? I could get used to the concept. If only the Lord of Stable Relationships could continue to impart his wisdom upon me, I'd be ever so grateful. I had to bite my lip in order for that thought to not be given voice, though.

"I guess…" I mused, but now that a part of my personal life had been revealed, Andrew still hungered for more details, the scum.

"What's her name, Doc? Do you know where she is on Earth?"

Why was it that when people peeled away thin layers of people's privacy, they still wanted more? How greedy could one get?

"Her name…is none of your business," I snapped. "And she's not on Earth. She's with her people, fighting the war."

"Ooh, racy!" Andrew simpered in a manner that I found most annoying. 'Racy?' Where the hell is he going with this? "So she's not human, then. What is she, turian? Asari?"

I was tempted to say ' _fuck off_ ' to him, but I settled for a scowl and my eyes shooting daggers in his direction. Just thinking about Nya was making me angry, not because her actual presence made me to be an insufferable prick, but because every single moment that I've spent away from her has been torturous on my psyche. Andrew was oblivious to this and not understanding of the fact that he was inadvertently causing me more pain.

"Quarian," I said flatly, despite my intentions not to speak.

The man gave a low whistle. "Wow, how scandalous."

That did it. Of all the things he could have said those three words nearly sent me into a blind rage. I stood up ramrod straight, my expression furious, my legs held firmly in place from all of the crap cluttered around them, keeping me upright while the transport bucked and rocked. One of the soldiers saw me standing up menacingly and yelled at me to sit my ass down but I ignored the order belligerently.

" _The fuck did you just say?!_ " I whispered fiercely, unconsciously thinking that my current armored state was making me more intimidating than normal. Andrew shrank in his seat while I clenched my fists, ready to show this man that I was ready to throw down, never mind how poor my brawling technique was.

Caleigh leaned over in a pathetic attempt to protect her lover. "He didn't mean it! He didn't mean what he said!"

"He certainly did!" I roared. "Don't stick your neck out for this prick! Tell me, asshole, exactly what is 'scandalous' about that aspect of my life?"

"I…I…I…" Andrew stuttered.

"I'm not hearing an answer to my question!"

"It…it's just…" Andrew took a large swallow. "I've never heard of a human with…with a quarian before. Personally, I mean."

Wow. The unconscious racist stereotype out in play. How many heads was I going to have to knock together before they could see that the discrimination was essentially a non-issue?

"And so just because it's uncommon automatically means that it's scandalous, does it?" I mocked. "What the fuck do _you_ know about whom I choose to consort with?"

"It was just idle talk!" Caleigh pleaded. "Don't-"

I pointed a threatening finger at her so forcefully that she immediately withered under the spotlight. "Unless I'm posing a question directly to you, shut your face!" I snarled.

Now Andrew seemed to be getting his courage back as he straightened, now more indignant. "You can't talk to her like that!"

"The hell I can't! All I said to her was to shut up, _you_ had to insult me _and_ the person that I care about. Now who's the one speaking rudely?"

"I will lay you out if you continue to speak to me this way," Andrew said in an attempt to be more intimidating. The effort was laughable – I was bigger than him and in considerably better shape. I was also driven by a hell of a lot more rage which could be quite the combat drug if utilized properly. If it was going to come to blows, I would definitely put money on myself.

In spite of his promise, I laughed in his face.

"You? My friend, one of the benefits of being a doctor is that I can break every bone in your body, knit you back together, and break your bones again all without putting you in mortal danger. If you insult me or her again, I promise you that-,"

Before I could outline out loud the exact methods I would utilize to remove Andrew's spine through his mouth, a rumbling noise unexpectedly burst onto the scene followed by the sound of wrenching metal. With a squeal of brakes, the transport locked up and skidded to a stop. I was thrown to the ground but luckily landed on everyone else's backpacks, cushioning my fall and preventing me from cracking my jaw on the metal ground.

Everyone in the cabin started to panic at this development. After all, what can you expect? We're not stoic soldiers so this kind of thing was still relatively foreign to us. However, after I picked myself up off the ground with a grunt, I became dimly aware that the majority of us were shuffling outside, trying to get out of this stuffy place. I made sure that I had my rifle on me before I followed them out.

Jumping down on the hot tarmac, I spotted Captain Lewis barking orders to subordinates as the rest of the civilian militia aimlessly crowded near the parked vehicles, somewhat confused. I looked in the direction of where all the soldiers were running and saw a ghastly sight that made me blow out a silent curse.

Just a hundred or so meters down the highway, smoke poured up into the air in a thick gray column. Flames licked upward from the wreckage of a vehicle that was burning and I could see the slight bluish tinge caused by hydrogen igniting. The soldiers were running towards the inferno, some firing their guns away from the highway. My breathing became shorter. What was happening? Was this an attack?

Lewis saw me in the crowd and I hustled over to him once it was apparent that he had finished talking to everyone he needed to. "Captain! What the hell is going on?"

"Enemy contact," he replied grimly. "A scout vehicle reported that something rushed out of the wheat fields and detonated near one of our Hammerheads. Right underneath the shields, too. Ripped the damn thing apart like it was tissue paper."

The Hammerhead attack craft did have a reputation for being rather finicky towards taking damage as their armor was quite thin, almost dangerously so. No wonder the people that I've talked to always hated to ride in the thing as it was notorious for being just a hovering, metal coffin. I could tell, even from this distance, that the craft was a total loss as two of the engines had been ripped clear from the chassis, blackened with soot. The question of whether the pilots survived or not went unasked as I could tell from the captain's grim expression that the worst had indeed come to pass.

The soldiers began wading into the grain field, the golden stalks coming up to their waists. From my position, it was easy to see what was going on as occasionally a dark form would suddenly rise up from the wheat, but the soldiers were well trained to react in milliseconds, very quickly putting down any husk that dared to mount a charge against the humans. The gunfire only registered as pops from the highway instead of deafening booms and it was gratifying to see the concentrated fire shred the enemies to pieces, sometimes literally.

Lewis then turned to me. "We might need a medic in a bit. You up for following?"

"Hell no!" I protested. "Damn it, man, I already told you: I'm a doctor, not a soldier."

"These guys have probably got most of the problem mopped up. You'll be safe if you're by me. Just to cover the bases."

As if purely to prove his point, a wretched howl sounded as a husk stood up from a crawl and burst from the stalks, arms flailing, as it rushed Lewis and me. I fumbled at my rifle and tried to raise it, but Lewis got his up way before me and loosed a three-round burst that took off half the husk's head, splattering what remained of its brains onto the grassy slope. Smoke rising from his rifle, Lewis gave a shrug as if to say, 'I told you so.'

"'Most of the problem,' eh?" I shakily mocked as I lowered my gun back down.

"Mostly," Lewis conceded. "Well, I'm going to join the men. You can stay here if you like, I'm not going to force you."

"Oh, fuck that," I shook my head emphatically. "You saw what just happened. There's no safe place around here. I'm going with you."

"As you wish."

We began to move through the grain and the dried stalks immediately started to brush at my body in an irritating manner. Had I not been covered in armor, I would be coated in scratches by now. I matched Lewis' pace and made sure that I was never more than a meter away from his presence. The random thought that a husk could simply be lying in wait, covered by the wheat, never completely vanished from my mind, giving me the impression that I was not truly safe here or maybe I had watched one too many horror movies in my youth.

This was not doing my blood pressure any favors.

I could see that we were headed to what looked like a lone church on top of a grassy knoll about a quarter of a mile away, which is where the soldiers were starting to gather after sweeping the area clean of enemies. It was a simple building, painted white, the tallest object for miles on this flat plain. It stood out against the clear backdrop of the blue sky, very picturesque.

My foot trod on something squishy and I looked down, quickly wishing that I hadn't. The remains of a husk gazed back at me, clearly dead, its swollen tongue lolling out of its open mouth. It had been cut in half from a hail of bullets earlier on, the organs looking black and diseased. Shuddering, I shook my boot in an attempt to rid myself of the ichor that had accumulated there – I felt dirty otherwise.

As we broke from the field with a crackle from the dried stalks and approached the church, a helmeted soldier, a corporal, ran up to Lewis. "Motion and heat sensors aren't picking up any additional bogeys. The area is secure, sir."

"For now," Lewis replied before he glanced at the church. "And in there?"

"Waiting for your order to breach."

"Go ahead."

The corporal gestured to four of his comrades and they lined up in a five-man squad, two taking either side of the double doors while one prepared to breach. I hovered over Lewis' shoulder, torn between interest and anxiety. One of the soldiers made a gesture with his fist and the breaching man ran forward a few steps and planted a powerful kick squarely in the middle of the doors. The flimsy lock snapped under the force and wood splinters flew as the frame shattered. The next few moments were rather disorganized as the five men began to proceed into the church but one by one, they turned away, distressed by something that was in there.

One of the soldiers pried off his helmet just in time for him to vomit onto the parched grass. "Aw Jesus," another moaned, not exactly referencing his ailing partner. The others made aggrieved noises and shuffled away, obviously upset.

Lewis, concerned at the state of his men, rushed over to provide assistance until he got a glimpse of what was inside the church. Mouth gaping open momentarily, the most emotion I had seen from him up until now, he then screwed his eyes shut and breathed deeply before he comforted the man that was currently throwing up – he obviously had it the worst.

I knew that I was not going to like what was in there, but when my curiosity was piqued this much, I had to satiate it. Mentally preparing myself, I took a few steps forward and peered inside, my eyes adjusting to the dimness of the place until they became glazed over, almost glassy. I must have stood there for so long that the people around me must have wondered if I had been traumatized.

But I never turned away.

Blood. The entire place was coated in it. Bodies lined the pews, about forty or fifty at first glance, completely covered in red. Not soldiers – just civilians. People wearing their Sunday best and inhabiting a place of worship that should have not been witness to a scene of such brutality. The air stank of blood – wet and coppery – that I could almost taste it in my mouth. What had happened here?

I was the first one to enter – I needed to know everything that went on. I approached the first body, a woman in her fifties, and knelt down, careful not to get myself covered in the spilled blood. Her nice dress was a total loss, stained from head to toe. I gently lifted her arm to get a sense of how far into her rigor mortis she had gone. Stiff, but not in much of a state of decomposition. She had died maybe two days ago at the most. If that was the case, then all of these people had died at probably the same exact time.

It was her injuries that intrigued me. There were no signs of obvious trauma from gunfire or being ripped apart from husks. The woman had no flesh torn away, no bite marks, nothing to indicate that she had been killed from the Reapers. The cause of death was more obvious than any of those forms and much simpler than what the Reapers could have possibly offered that I wondered how I had not spotted it immediately, to my disbelief.

The woman's neck was slit wide open.

Self-inflicted, it had to be. The Reapers did not go about slitting throats, they either shot or mauled their victims to death. I hunted up and down for the object that did the trick and found it clenched in the woman's other hand, out of my initial view. I pried a straight razor from her stiff grip, finding that the blade was encrusted with dried blood. A suicide, then. No doubt about it. The woman had managed to slice her way through the stiff tendons and muscle to reach her arteries, cutting them, which had spewed blood all down her front and over the pew in front of her. What a mess.

Feeling detached from my own body, I left the woman and started towards the person next to her. Possibly her husband? His neck was slit too. The next person was killed in the same fashion. And the next. And the next one after that. I took to quickly passing through the aisles, merely glancing at each victim. All of their throats were cut from some form of blade. Each and every one. I stood amongst the rows of corpses, leaving red, sticky footprints in my wake as I surveyed the carnage, trying not to make eye contact with the blank gazes of the dead.

Captain Lewis tenderly walked in, a hand covering his face to ward off the smell. "My god. What…what happened, Doc? Was it the husks?"

Slowly, as if in a trance, I shook my head. "Suicide. All of them. Throats cut all at approximately the same time. Even the damn priest bought it in the same way."

"Fucking hell. Some kind of ritualistic killing?"

I gently pilfered a pamphlet from one of the shelves. In bright letters it read, "THE END IS NIGH." Guess that was my answer right there. The End Times had come in the form of the Reapers to these folk and they couldn't muster the courage to face the Apocalypse.

"Most likely a bunch of people that had no hope and wanted to go out early," I said as I handed the pamphlet to Lewis. "Don't know why they chose to do it with razors instead of pills or guns, though. Made a bigger mess that way."

"Bunch of crackpots," Lewis muttered savagely. "Did they really think that this was going to help anybody? By killing themselves needlessly?"

Killing themselves needlessly? That sounded familiar.

"Not a good way to go," I grimly observed. "It wasn't quick for most of these people. Contorted expressions, some initial scratches on their necks beforehand. A lot of them did a sloppy job – it was probably quite painful in those last few seconds of life that they had. One could only imagine…"

Lewis seemed appalled at my demeanor. "You're a cold bastard when you get clinical, you know that?"

Now it was my turn to fixate him with a stare. "Not my first time seeing a dead body before…sir."

I don't think that Lewis knew what to make of that so he just turned and left me here with the bodies. I followed him shortly thereafter; there was nothing that I could do and no real reason for me to linger. Stepping outside into the bright sun, it felt like I could breathe normally again and I relished the warmth on my face. More soldiers had joined us and were milling around the place. I ignored them as I walked towards a nearby fencepost so that I could lean on it.

I thought about the people in the church and what they had done. I wondered if they left any family behind, if they knew that they would cause people pain by seeing them like this. It caused me to reflect upon my past, if I would have distressed people if they had found my lifeless body either on the road or on that beach. The people in there had succeeded; I had not.

Was it a needless waste for them to kill themselves? I know that it wasn't for me. If I had not failed, I would never have gotten to meet Nya, never have gotten to know such a lovely woman that filled me with happiness every second that I was with her. Did those people really stop to think that they might have had a chance at living if they stuck it out? There were fifty people in there, surely one of them must have had some misgivings! Unless of course, they were all bound by the mob mentality of adopting the big idea at hand.

It was sad to think that these people felt they had nothing to live for. I had been in that position before and had been proven wrong twice over. Was redemption guaranteed for those who hit rock bottom just like me?

If anything, my lack of answers was more distressing than the image of a slashed and gaping windpipe.

* * *

The fire snapped and crackled as it consumed the dried wood foundation. Creaks and snaps from the roofing signified that the structure was ready to fall and we all backed away unconsciously. Walls that had once been white were now charred black, the flames reaching higher than the Hammerhead smoldering on the highway. The inferno reached the steeple, beginning to melt the small golden cross that topped the spire, a sight haunting with its symbolism.

This all felt decidedly un-Christian to me, but we could not afford the time to give the dead a proper burial. Leaving them to rot also did not sit right with us, so the soldiers had grabbed a few flamethrowers from the convoy and ignited the church in seconds, not looking as their flames reached the bodies. We were all spread out in a circle around the building, making sure that the fire did not spread to the neighboring field in an uncontrollable blaze. We were far away that we could not smell the burning flesh, but it did not stop some people, mainly my fellow civilians, for putting a hand over their nostrils more out of courtesy.

With a tired groan, the roof finally buckled and collapsed, burying the filled pews inside. Burning boards toppled to the ground, windows shattered from the heat, and ash clouded the sky. I could hear mutterings from the people around me. One person held a small cross from a necklace in his hand as he silently prayed. He was praying for their souls, perhaps, and not ours. Shame, I could use some divine intervention right about now.

I was feeling clammy again, so I surrendered myself to the craving that had been eating at me since Seattle. Finding the crumpled packet of cigarettes in my pocket, I opened up and found, to my disappointment, that there was only one left for me to use. Just one. I might as well have none on me in this case. I flirted with hesitation on what to do, but was interrupted when Josh leaned next to me.

"Any chance I could bum one of those?" he asked, pointing to the cigarettes, not knowing that I was just about out.

I looked at him in interest, gauging just how much he wanted it. Josh looked anxious, like he was on the verge of throwing up himself. This sort of situation was unfamiliar to him and he was having a hard time coping, I realized, despite his natural bluster. I glanced back at the pack in my hands before I thrust the entire thing at him, quite deliberately.

"Take it," I said as I resumed watching the fire consume the remains of the church. "I'm quitting smoking anyway."

* * *

 **A/N: A hundred freaking reviews. I'm not going to lie, that's pretty damn impressive. For those of you who contributed to that milestone, I want to thank you for your support/constructive criticism as it really does make all the difference when writing this thing. You are all amazing and I just want you to know that.**

 **Now, for an update on the story's status.**

 **Just to let you know, as of this week, I recently accepted a job offer to work full time for a large company in my area. This is a great opportunity for me but it will also mean that the updating schedule for _The Quantum Error_ will be affected by my change in employment, so I'm going to describe what is going to happen for the future. Don't worry, it's not all completely bad news. **

**Now that I will be working full-time and no longer part-time, I will not have many opportunities throughout the week to work on chapters for this story. That doesn't mean that I'm not going to be writing at all, but it'll probably mean that I will only have the weekend to write instead of the entire week. As such, my output in a little more than a week when I join the new team is going to decrease by a lot. I will release one more chapter on the usual weekly schedule before I start work, after which I will be forced to write more sparingly. That's just the situation that I will be facing.**

 **The good news though, is that more than 75% of the story will be done by that point in terms of overall chapters released, and that a few parts of future chapters have already been written (but not yet edited). That means that only the last five or so chapters of _The Quantum Error_ will be affected by this - just five chapters, it's not that much. Rest assured, I'm not going to let this story go on hiatus, not when I'm so close to completing it. I've gotten too far to disappoint you all and myself by just leaving this unfinished, so I will promise that it will be completed. Not sure when that will be, but it _will_ be finished.**

 **Thank you for understanding and I hope you enjoy the chapter.**


	19. Chapter 19: Diamond Lane Woes

**A/N: Some potentially distressing content ahead in the first half of the chapter. This is rated M for a reason, after all.**

* * *

Generally speaking, suspension of my consciousness into a peaceful slumber is something that I have to admit I took for granted. These days, if I could get even three hours of a decent rest, I would be satisfied with the progress I had made. As such, such slumber was now a valuable commodity only because my hours were now dictated for every single moment of my life.

The next few moments just served to prove that point.

"Hey, Sam!"

A hand was roughly shaking my shoulder, trying to rouse me from my sleep. They were only partially successful, as I was awake at the moment but I was still in that twilight mode of sleep where I was conscious but my body was still in a slight paralytic state – the very same feeling when one gets after a good night's rest. Oh, how I wanted to curse them out, to make their ears burn for the very transgression they were imparting by trying to wake me. As such, I could only utter a string of garbled words in my current state, hoping that the intruding presence would leave me alone.

" _Whaddafuckyouwan…_?"

They responded with a kick to my shin, causing me to sit up in pain, encased in my sleeping bag. Well, I guess I was awake _now_.

"Ow! You fucking dickhead!"

"Sorry, Sam," Andrew said apologetically as he knelt down, rubbing his cold cheeks which had begun to turn red from the low temperatures. "Had to do something to get you to wake. It's your turn for night watch now."

Like I wanted to go on perimeter watch in the middle of the night, but I had no other discernable choice. It was either that or be chewed out by my superiors for slacking off, and I did not like to be chewed out.

Unwilling to leave my warm cocoon but knowing that I would have to do so anyway, I begrudgingly began to inch my way out, shivering as the cold mountain air began to nip at me, despite the fact that I had already been wearing a jacket and pants as my sleepwear. I glanced around the flimsy room of the shed, taking into account the dozens of bodies similarly stuffed into their own bags sleeping around me in rows. The sounds of snoring was quite evident and I was envious that their sleep had continued to remain undisturbed while mine had not.

"What time is it?" I asked Andrew as I too tried to warm my hands up.

"About three in the morning," he responded after a quick check to his chronometer. "Almost the crack of dawn."

Grumbling, I finally jerked myself free from my sleeping bag and began to roll it up. Now that I was out in the open, the chilling air was doing a good job at helping me wake up more. The shed that we were inhabiting was unheated, thus allowing the temperature to drop drastically at night. I shivered and frantically rubbed at my arms to warm myself up, noting that my breath was misting in front of me.

"I wish I never mentioned to Lewis that I was somewhat of a morning person," I muttered out loud to myself, conveying my regret.

Andrew didn't respond but instead held out a metal thermos, offering it to me. Somewhat apprehensive, I took it from him and opened the lid a crack so that I could whiff its contents. A rich scent flooded my nostrils and I sighed in bliss as the smell recalled old memories.

"You didn't…" I beamed, floored that a bit of luck had offset the misery of waking up this early.

"Goldstein couldn't sleep so he made a pot. Figured I might as well bring an extra flask over since I know that no one likes to be woken up early."

I took a swig of the coffee gratefully after testing it to make sure it was not hot enough to burn my mouth. The warm liquid ran down my throat and I could imagine that it was already thawing the ice that was beginning to creep along my body. I shook my limbs out joyfully before I took an even bigger swallow. The coffee itself was not too good; the grounds were burnt and there was some bite to the mixture, but after living off of weak tea for the past few months, coffee in any form was a luxury that could not be passed up. None of us could really afford to be snobbish anyway.

"You are my savior," I sighed. "God, this makes today already ten times more bearable."

Taking one more sip of coffee before I strapped the thermos to my belt, I finished attaching my rolled up sleeping bag to the top of my backpack. I retrieved my rifle and pistol, the latter I put into its holster. I then quickly began to strap all of my armor pieces onto my body, the hard material already constricting my breathing. The last thing I did before I got up was take two long-lasting glow sticks, cracked them, and attached one to the belt loop on my front and the other at my back. The glow sticks were meant to indicate to any fellow humans monitoring the perimeter that I was a friendly, as the Reaper's cronies were too simple-minded to utilize tools in order to fool any of our five senses. Mostly they just preferred to charge while howling war cries in a very unsubtle manner.

Now energized and rearing to go, I did one last double check to see if I had all the requisite materials that I needed before I headed out. I bid Andrew farewell, thanked him again for the coffee, and accompanied him out the door of the tiny shed as we headed outside. We separated at the foot of the wooden stairs as he went to look for Caleigh and I cracked my neck and started on my patrol, heading east towards the series of small man-made reservoirs, colored green from the algae buildup.

As we parted, I had to admit that Andrew had grown on me since our initial friction-filled meeting. It turned out that we were not polar opposites after all and had quickly agreed to make nice, as the both of us saw that it was pointless to be infighting while the rest of the planet was crumbling all around us. I guess I had judged him too harshly as he had deftly put aside any personal prejudices and I cooled my behavior around him to the point where we now considered each other to be friends.

Since Idaho, Captain Lewis had been leading the convoy on a rather convoluted journey throughout the northwestern part of the country. At first I thought that the captain had no plan and was acting purely on instinct but over time did I realize that he was deliberately taking back roads in order to throw off the trail from any pursuing forces. We had kept up this pattern for about a month, stopping at random sites along the way, until our journey terminated in the middle of what had to be the most forsaken place that I could imagine.

In many aspects, the state of Wyoming was several times worse than Idaho, partly because out of the original fifty states it had a population lower than the city of Washington D.C. (or the country of Luxembourg for that matter) and also because it was the ugliest looking place I had ever laid my eyes upon. Whereas in Idaho I had to contend with flat farmland and a few scattered forests, here you were lucky if you could even spot a solitary tree, let alone a patch of soft grass. To make matters worse, we were currently occupying a region of the state that was a drainage basin completely enclosed by the Continental Divide. That meant that the area around us for miles was mostly completely flat with a few buttes to provide some irregularity to an otherwise dull landscape.

Forget what I said about Idaho earlier, because Idaho is lovely compared to this dump.

Where we were was not quite desert, but not quite grassland either. Hardy shrubs covered the entire ground while the gray dirt coated everything in a chalky layer of dust. I legitimately felt that I was going to develop consumption, tuberculosis, or any other 1920s disease if I continued to stay out here and choke on the grit for another four months. Four…goddamn…months. Why, oh why could we not have picked a nicer spot to hunker down from the killer robots?

Lewis' choice to make a base of sorts in Wyoming did make a certain kind of sense, despite my bitching and moaning. The captain was still operating on the sound logic that the Reaper's programming would have them move to areas of greater population first before coming to places a bit further out of the way to mop up the stragglers. It sounded good, but that did not mean that I had to like it because that logic was what led us out here in the first place – to a helium plant miles away from the nearest highway or significantly populated town.

Now when I say significant, I mean that the nearest "town" of Opal (if you could call it that) only had less than a hundred people living there at its heyday. What can you do in a town with less than a hundred people anyway? Really, we were so far removed from civilization that I could cry.

Thanks to the power of satellite imaging, Lewis directed our convoy far off the highway, down a series of dirt roads until we had reached the refinery in question, abandoned god knows how many years ago. According to Lewis, there was a much larger facility twenty-three miles to the southeast but he insisted that we make a base at this one as again, a systematic approach would have the Reapers come inspect the larger facility first for any survivors. If they had any notion to come all the way out to bumblefuck nowhere, that is. And let me tell you, we were _way_ out there.

For the sake of order, the makeshift camp at the refinery was organized into two sections. The easternmost buildings would be reserved as quarters for all of the soldiers on duty while the westernmost buildings would be for the civilians and those passively enlisted, which happened to include me. The buildings themselves lacked proper amenities and were without power. A group of civilians were tasked to go down to the evaporation reservoirs and see if they could bring up any water for showering, but it was soon discovered that the water was too contaminated to be used for cleaning. Therefore, any water that was to be collected had to be boiled in order to kill off any contaminants but this was time-consuming and an almost useless gesture considering the amount of work involved. The rest of us normal folk were tasked with menial duties, such as keeping the buildings in a reasonable state, fixing up any of the vehicles, or in my case, standing by as the doctor on call while simultaneously balancing soldierly functions.

And no, I was not going to be paid any overtime for this.

As I hooked a left around the first evaporation reservoir, I took a glance over at the refinery from where I was heading away from. The raw gas wells were directly to the south with the mercury removal, dehydration, and nitrogen rejection silos currently closest to me. My route was a simple one: make an orbit around the refinery until the sun came up at what was usually 5:30. I was encouraged to keep my gait as slow as possible so that I would not miss anything while on my patrol. Other than a few jackrabbits and coyotes, there was nothing alive out here that was noteworthy whatsoever. I would have to _try_ to miss something out here, if it ever was to come to that.

I reached the train staging area (they still used trains due to their ability to ship several tons of cargo at once) and ambled across the tracks, kicking dirt up from my boots as I hopped onto the road parallel to the rails. I took measured sips of coffee as I went, truthfully only paying little attention to my surroundings.

There was no question that I was a poor reconnaissance unit, but it had been four months since anyone had shot at us and I was rather skeptical about the Reapers making their way over to this neck of the woods that I developed the rather bad tendency to half-ass all my patrols. That meant that I usually daydreamed or made up mind games for me to play – basically doing anything other than the job I was assigned. It was either the fact that I did not give a shit about my duties or that I was trying to prove a point to Captain Lewis that if I did the job badly enough I would never be asked to do it again.

After about forty-five minutes, I had almost completed a full loop of the refinery. I was now trudging past one of the natural gas liquid stream distillation towers – I knew this because one of the men in the transport I always traveled with used to work for deep space asteroid companies that mined helium and he would not shut up about which individual part did what in this plant to the point where my attempts to zone out in his presence were futile. Thus, I had developed an ungodly amount of knowledge concerning the production of helium; not something I thought that I would put on my resume.

I checked my chronometer for the tenth time in five minutes. Crap, I still had two more hours left until my shift ended. My glow sticks on my belt loop had dimmed to the point where they were barely emitting any light so I swapped them out for fresh ones. My coffee had been fully drunk by now and was already wreaking havoc on my bladder. It was dark enough that I knew that no one could see me (despite the glow sticks) and I stopped by some shrubs to relieve myself. That still failed to kill a reasonable amount of time, so I did an about-face and began walking the circuit again, this time in the opposite direction.

This time, I did my best attempt at some actual recon, just to mentally assure myself that I was actually doing some beneficial work while on duty. That simply involved me looking through the night-vision scope on my rifle at intermittent intervals toward the horizon, always finding the view rather lacking. Nothing in sight – no bright blotches on the infrared at all. The place was completely deserted.

My boots and shin guards were caked with white dust by now and I had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach about being so removed from the rest of the world, the rest of the galaxy, that I wondered how the hell I was going to get out of here. I could not make a break for it, or even go so far as to steal a truck. Where could I go from here? What possible avenue could I take in order to get away from this place? Besides, I had a duty to these people here – I was irreplaceable to them as their only medic. What would it say about me if I left them to their fate?

But if I stayed…how could I get back to Nya?

Fucking hell. It was bad enough that I had to endure those few months when she walked out of my apartment but those months had just stretched on and on. I had not heard from Nya in over half a year. Was she still alive and well? Now that I was hunkered down in Wyoming, would I even get a chance to see her again? These questions were so potent to my psyche and I spent so much time reverting back to daydreaming as I walked the perimeter that I almost missed the series of muffled noises that were coming from behind the fence next to one of the well heads.

I stopped in my tracks and did a slight double-take to determine where the noises were coming from. Curious, I hefted my gun as I went to take a look. Decades of weathering the elements had caused the chain-link fence surrounding the refinery to become rusted away, so there were several gaps in the perimeter. I sidestepped through one of those gaps as I carefully maneuvered around stray bits of vegetation, careful not to make too much noise. As a precaution, I flipped the safety of my gun off, but kept my finger well away from the trigger. Lewis made damn sure that anyone under his command who did not practice good trigger discipline was to be submitted to a fifteen minute lecture at a loud volume followed by two hundred push-ups and sit-ups. Anyone who still had vivid memories of their gym classes had enough incentive to follow the captain's orders; no one wanted to go through physical training like that again.

Ducking under a section of piping with my rifle out in front, I was able to see two shapes right next to the well. Light had begun to crack over the horizon, giving off enough illumination so that I could easily tell what was going on without having to infer. A man was thrusting his pelvis into a woman while he pushed her up against the wall, both very clearly having sex right in front of me. The man's pants were down around his thighs and the woman did not seem to be wearing any at all, judging from her bare legs waving everywhere.

I turned away in embarrassment for a quick second. My first initial thought (which seemed insensitive in hindsight) was why there was the need for secrecy for having sex with these two. To put it in perspective, the overall mood had become so dour that multiple people had taken to hooking up with others – something that was mutually encouraged amongst everyone as it helped to build morale. Hell, Andrew and Caleigh were one of those couples that obliged that right and they went at it practically every other night in one or the other's sleeping bag. No one among us even attempted to hide the fact that someone was having sex for we had grown so accustomed to the occurrence that we hardly batted an eye every time we heard a series of heavy breathing or grunting from the next row over of sleeping bags during the night. For these two right to go all the way out here at this moment just to get it on was…odd, to say the least.

It was that line of thinking that made me look back, despite my embarrassment. The two did not seem to have noticed me yet, despite the fact that I should be clearly visible to them. As a matter of fact, it did not look like it was enjoyable for one person. The man looked like he was doing all the work and his hands were mashed up against the woman's face. Was…was he covering her mouth? I first thought that he was trying to quiet her moans but as I crept closer, I realized that he was trying to silence louder yelps. I could hear the chilling screams being smothered under a sweaty palm. The woman's limbs flailed and beat against his body, not in bliss, but in pure terror and that was when I realized the terrible truth and every part of my body boiled, the cold completely forgotten.

That…vile… _motherfucker!_

Before I reacted, I quickly pinged the silent alarm programmed into my omni-tool, hoping that backup would come running very soon. I then sprang forward, my feet flying over the dusty ground as I rushed the pair, steam emitting from my very head. The man heard my footsteps and turned his head at the last second, just in time to see the butt of my rifle knock him squarely in the forehead with a white flash.

The man flew backwards, off of the woman, and she let out a scream in shock. I was astonished at how quickly I had defused the situation; the man was heavily dazed and his face was cut open, weeping blood down his features. He limply rolled on the ground, groaning, and I could see his face for the first time now that the first flickers of sunlight flitted across his stained head.

" _Neil?_ " I whispered in astonishment as the shock of red hair stood out amongst the frozen ground.

No…it couldn't be. The sharp, college-bound, unassuming, young kid? The guy who seemed so naïve, so innocent at being in over his head? _That_ Neil?

It was like a bad dream. Never could I have imagined that Neil would do something so despicable, yet here I was, standing over him while the woman he had been defiling begun to openly weep.

"Don't hurt him!" she whimpered in between sobs. She looked young in age – a teenager? " _Don't hurt him!_ "

"What?!" I shot back in disbelief. That made no sense to me at all.

Before she could elaborate – if she could elaborate if she wasn't in hysterics – several people jogged around the corner of the well, toting flashlights and weapons. Captain Lewis led the charge, his face stoic as usual. I threw the woman a jacket that I found on the ground so that she could cover herself before everyone arrived. She did not need to be subject to any more humiliation today.

"What the hell is going on here, McLeod?" Lewis sharply asked, forgoing my nickname for the time being.

"A rape, captain," I indicated to the still-stirring Neil and the sobbing woman. "He was forcing himself on her. I…I stopped it."

A murmur went through the soldiers, some of them sharing long and grim looks.

"Fuckin' rapists," a large-necked soldier spat on the ground. "I'll string him up by his own intestines, captain. _After_ I cut off his dick and stuff it into his mouth."

The man moved forward but Lewis threw out an arm and forcibly stopped him from continuing. " _Wrong_ , O'Dell!" he barked. "You are to do nothing of the sort, even after we determine the nature of the crime. We're not animals here." Now speaking softly, he tilted his head over to the woman who was still sprawled out on the ground. "Help her up, for god's sake."

O'Dell quickly calmed, glaring at Neil but softening when he walked over to the woman. He gently brought her to her feet, despite the fact that her legs were shaking terribly. He led her back into the crowd and there was a collective intake of breath as we saw the blood that was slowly trickling down her thighs. My insides were broiling and O'Dell's temper was flaring as well. Everyone was getting restless and Lewis sensed it.

"It wasn't his fault!" the girl cried out as she was led away. "It was mine! Please don't hurt him!"

My mouth dropped open a crack as a sour feeling filled my stomach. If Lewis was worried by the outburst, he did not show it. Rather, he bent over to grab the shoulder pads of Neil's armor and forcibly hauled him up to his feet so that he could slam him against the side of the well. Neil hissed in pain, the gash on his face still weeping, but Lewis remained steadfast.

I noted Neil's wandering gaze and his weak legs. "I think he has a concussion," I piped up.

"Good," Lewis nodded. "Then he'll be more forthcoming with his answers."

"The girl…she was blaming herself-,"

"She was in shock," Lewis cut me off. "Her mind wanted to lock the incident away by putting the source of blame onto herself. Inadmissible evidence, McLeod. She's not in the right state of mind to provide a sound recollection."

All eyes locked on Neil and the captain, we waited with bated breath for what was to come next.

Lewis scrunched his eyes and lightly slapped Neil on the cheek to gain his attention. "Speak, civilian. Why did you do it? Why did you rape that woman? Explain yourself very clearly."

"Couldn't…help it," Neil gritted through clenched teeth. "Fucking bitch was asking for it…"

I was shocked to hear such venom come from Neil's mouth. I still had the image of this scrawny, young man terrified at his surroundings. What could have possibly driven him to do this atrocity?

Even though Lewis had his confession in what had to be record time, he was not done yet. "How exactly was she 'asking for it?' How could she deserve to be treated that way?"

Neil was moaning in pain that it almost looked like he would not be able to answer until Lewis shook him by the shoulder. "She…led me on for months. Teased me. She…she kept on tormenting me by rubbing…oh, god…rubbing me. But…she did nothing. Said she wasn't ready…"

"So she was stringing you along and you snapped, is that the way of it?" Lewis scowled.

"I was hurting," Neil begged. "I…hurt now. I have a cramp…I just want it to end."

"You disgust me," Lewis backed away from the young man, leaving him to slowly slide back down to the ground. He turned in the direction of the crowd, which had grown in the past few minutes, his face concrete but on the verge of twisting in complete anger. "Everyone here knows that rape is an intolerable offence! Displaced we may be, but we are still civilized! We will not subject ourselves to acts of savagery! We will not tolerate crimes of this nature any less harshly regardless of the details!"

There were muttered agreements and a few heads bobbed as well. Neil continued to clutch his head, unaware of how much he was currently hated at the moment. Lewis then stepped in front of me, his expression unreadable.

"You're the only witness," he whispered. "You were the one who saw everything unfold. If you would like to add something, say it now."

I snorted hot air through my nostrils. "And what could I possibly say that hasn't already been said?"

"He's getting his justice, one way or another. If you speak on his behalf you may be able to sway the crowd into granting him a lesser punishment. Perhaps."

The nature of his comment almost insulted me. What punishment did Lewis possibly have in mind for Neil that I could make right by my words alone? I know he was just a kid, but if Lewis really knew me, he should not have asked me that question at all. I almost felt bad for Neil. Almost.

"If I speak for him," I hissed as I stepped up to him, my face mere inches away from his own, "I'll just be betraying the very few principles that I have left. There is no way in hell that I will ever defend that kind of act. _Ever_." I squinted my eyes in contempt. "I believe you have your answer."

Lewis did not so much as raise an eyebrow, but simply gave a singular nod of satisfaction. "Then I see no reason to drag this out," he said grimly as he yanked his pistol from his holster.

Before I could make a sound from my throat, before Neil could even tell what was going on to voice a protest, Lewis pointed the gun at the young man's head and fired. I closed my eyes just in time to miss the impact but the splattering sound was something that I would never forget. I opened them only after my ears had stopped ringing, deliberately looking away but I could not hide the sight in my peripheral vision of the slumped body and the red splotch on the wall behind him.

"Fucker got what he deserved," someone in the crowd said.

"Now that's justice," a woman added.

"May he burn in hell," another spat.

The group began to dissipate now that the situation had been resolved, most going back either to their duties or back to sleep. I continued to stay in the exact same spot, my gaze randomly focused on one of the sparse weeds popping up from the dry and cracked ground. As soon as the last person left, Lewis slowly walked over to me.

"Was this surprising for you?" he asked, intent lining his voice. "The man damned himself the second he laid a hand against that woman, McLeod."

I turned and glared right back at Lewis, my mouth a hard line. "I should have expected such an outcome," I said slowly. "I'm not naïve, captain. I can understand why you did it. But that's not why I'm angry."

"Angry at whom?"

"Him," I limply raised a hand in the direction of the corpse. "Out of all people, I never expected Neil to commit such a terrible act. Maybe that was why I thought at first that he deserved a second chance. That because he had his whole life ahead of him he would see the error of his ways."

Still…worse acts have been done by those far younger than pathetic Neil, though I did not voice that.

"And yet you did not say this when I prompted you," Lewis noted.

"Because I fucking grew up," I shook my head savagely. "We are innocent no longer. We're adults. If we cannot make the hard decisions that help everyone in the end, then we're no fit to survive."

"Darwinism – survival of the fittest," was Lewis' dry comment. "But it does not refer entirely to being fit in the body, but fit in the mind as well. The young man's crime was too harsh for us to iron out through the usual punishment regiment. Hard labor or being locked up was not going to improve his attitude, nor could we afford to spend the kind of energy looking after a jailed man. He gave himself up for culling with that act; it was the only option I had available."

Any other time and I would have recoiled in disgust. Gave himself up for culling? That line sounded a bit outside of what Lewis' earlier statement about us not being savages entailed. How far could we go before we dissolved into anarchy? Already we were being the judge, jury, and executioner. Who's to say about all this power completely going to our heads? Fortunately, Lewis' next words reassured me of that possible outcome.

"Besides, he was not soldier material anyway. Too inexperienced, not able to conform. He would have been killed where we're going next."

I raised my head a bit. "Where we're going? You mean we're leaving?"

Lewis nodded gravely as he leaned in close. "We just got the order an hour ago from the top. Planet-wide recall, highest priority. Apparently, all of the races have marshaled the largest fleet in history and are going to take the fight here, on Earth. You're the first civilian that I've told tonight. All forces across the planet are being recalled and shipped over to London, where the coordinated attack will take place."

The captain could not tell, but I felt faint as my chest began to tighten. London. Where it was all going to end, for better or for worse. The final act of the video game trilogy. Perhaps I should have been more frightened, knowing that we were now headed into the lion's den, but after all the shit that I had been through, I merely felt a sense of resignation. I mean, what more could I do?

"Damn," I could only utter in wonder. "London, eh? How are we going to get there?"

"First, we've got a long day of driving ahead of us. The Alliance has transports shipping out of USAFA at the end of the day. We're going to have to leave soon otherwise they're going to take off without us."

"The Air Force Academy?" I tilted my head. "But that's all the way over in Colorado on the other side of the Rockies!"

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Lewis shrugged mirthlessly. "The way I see it, it's about a nine hour journey from here to Colorado Springs, which is longer than a usual trip because we're still going to have to take inconvenient routes in order to avoid Denver, which is apparently in a state of open warfare right about now. Completely under Reaper control, I mean." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Everyone is going to have to accept this risk, Doc. This isn't something that can be consciously ignored and I hope you see that. That's why I want to know if you're going to be all-in, one hundred percent."

Luckily for the captain, my answer was more immediate than the initial ones during our first meeting.

"In that case…I'd better get my galoshes packed."

I'm coming for you, Nya.

* * *

Six hours into the journey and I had only slept for two of them. Right now, my head was currently lolling in time to the bumps in the road, my gateway towards sleep only being impeded by the pain in my neck from having it bent over for almost an hour. I tried to lift my head upright but that just used energy and helped to keep me awake. At this point, I should have probably just given up getting any sleep while I was in this transport.

We had handily passed the border between Wyoming and Colorado a while ago and had managed to proceed towards Colorado Springs without any violent incidents occurring in our direction. Thankfully, the agonizingly flat landscape had evolved into heavily forested and snowcapped mountains, filling the air with the scent of pines. The road we were currently on was thin and in dire need of repairs, but it was sufficient enough for the convoy, and at least it provided one hell of a view. I would have rather staked it out in the woods here than at that crappy refinery, let me tell you.

The seat that Neil usually occupied stuck out like a sore thumb now that it was empty. Most people were unaware of the circumstances that had led to Neil's absence and as a result, the rumor mill began in earnest. Some people claimed that the young man had run off after being fed up with living in the middle of nowhere for months. Others thought that he had been shot dead for posing as a spy for a shady organization. I was asked for my opinion, but I was never asked of what specifically happened. No one in the truck was able to pin the fact that I was the one who technically got Neil killed in the first place. I never engaged or encouraged this line of discussion; I only sat back and let it happen without contributing much to any of the rumors floating around.

Eventually everyone in the truck began to get bored of theorizing the reasons why Neil was not with us at the moment, the last crazy rumor being that he had been Raptured in the middle of the night and sent up to heaven, but I surmised that the person who came up with _that_ claptrap did not believe it either and was just be ridiculous on purpose. The newest activity that had the entire compartment interested was to pirate garbled radio signals from quantum satellites and fine-tune them so that we could hear any messages that were being played, if there were any. Josh was throwing himself into this task, fervently going through each channel and analyzing it for a signal seeing as he had nothing better to do.

The sound of white noise from the omni-tools was now assaulting my ears. Guess I was never going to get any sleep until we hit the Academy, it seemed. Resigned to my fate, I adjusted myself in the seat, still keeping my eyes closed, hopeful that I could at least make it to the point where I would only be half-awake and that when I opened my eyes we would have arrived at our destination.

"I got something!" Josh blurted out excitedly, startling me much to my dismay. "Here, here, listen to this!"

Josh brought his arm closer to the middle of the transport where the radio output was emanating from. The sound now crystal clear, we were able to make out the broadcaster's voice, our interests piqued.

"… _makes this a record moment in history, fellow viewers. Last night on January 2_ _nd_ _, 2188_ -,"

"It's just a repeated broadcast signal," Andrew noted, his face strangely frozen. "It's almost March now."

Andrew was shushed by the people around him so that we could listen further.

" _-the reports coming in from the Tikkun system have been verified. It's official, ladies and gentlemen. The Alliance has reported that the three century long conflict on the quarian planet of Rannoch has finally been resolved after a major surface battle against a Reaper regiment. The strike force, led by Commander Shepard, was able to destroy the Reaper presence and summarily brokered a cease-fire between the quarians and the geth. This is truly unprecedented, to think that the geth will be fighting alongside the Council races that have pledged their support after confining themselves to the world of their creators for so long_."

"Holy shit," Josh breathed. "Motherfucking Commander Shepard did it again."

"I know," I commented, barely suppressing the urge to smile. I felt that if I showed such a cocky bit of emotion that someone would catch on to what I knew, crazy as it might sound. "Who would've thought? That man's done more in a few years than any of us could accomplish in a lifetime."

"… _This is only a mere month after the pivotal battle on the soil of Tuchanka, where Shepard had liberated the krogan people and cured the genophage that limited the birth rate of the natives. I don't know what else to say about this man, folks, but it's obvious that he's going to be swimming in medals by the time that this is over_."

The mood in the truck was now electric now that people were starting to believe in miracles.

"What the hell?" Andrew gaped. "Shepard solves the quarian-geth conflict _and_ cures the genophage? Just how much have we missed from our media blackout? And who's currently top in the bioti-ball standings?"

Meanwhile, the broadcaster continued to speak over the radio, his glee barely suppressed. " _And because this is an independent station, meaning that we can talk about whatever the hell we want, and because people expect a quick tabloid recap, there has been some buzz around the Citadel after many people saw Commander Shepard getting some close R &R after one of his campaigns…with a fellow crewmember. As in, hand-holding close._"

"Wasn't Shepard going out with that asari?" Andrew mused.

"Nah," Josh shook his head, "I could have sworn that it was a human. Good looking chick, too."

"Just shut up for a minute so that he can tell us!" Caleigh whispered frantically, her eyes longing.

" _Sorry, ladies, but it appears that the commander's heart has been taken. Interestingly enough, it appears that it has been claimed by-,"_

Before the identity of Shepard's flame could be outed, the truck suddenly lurched as a loud _BANG_ erupted through the chassis. In that moment, everything went to hell.

Everyone screamed as the transport was pushed onto two wheels from an outside impact, beginning to tip over from its precarious position. I fell heavily onto the other side of the truck with a shout, nearly landing on top of Andrew as the world quickly turned sideways. The frame squealed loudly as its momentum dragged itself across the tarmac, sending sparks flying. Smoke began pouring in from the engine compartment, making our eyes water.

"Oww," I groaned as I sat up. Luckily, I didn't break anything despite having been thrown from one side of a truck to the next as it had overturned. Shakily, I got back to my feet and helped others up who were still stunned.

Not all of us were unscathed. There was this one man near the back whose wrist had completely snapped in half when he had landed at a funny angle. His hand was hanging limply and his eyes were bugging out as he stared at the shard of bone protruding from the skin. There was not much I could do for him except forcibly try to splint his wrist back into place and give him a combat stim to completely numb the pain. He was now out of the fight as he teetered on the edge of shock but the cocktail that I had injected had enough stimulants in it to keep him alert for hours. Besides, from the commotion outside, it was probably not the best time to perform an operation to heal his wrist completely. This was as good as he was going to get.

"What the fuck is going on out there?!" Josh hollered, looking freaked out.

Andrew peeked around the side and his eyes widened dramatically. "Reaper war party!" he shouted in alarm, causing a stir among us. "We're being swarmed! We've got to get the hell out of-,"

While speaking, Andrew was in the process of stepping out of the vehicle, free from the claustrophobic environment. He was still facing us, trying to get us to move when several flashes punched out from his front – impacts from bullets. His expression looked shocked and he tried to crane his head around to look for his attacker, but to no avail. He fell to the ground with a thump.

" _Andrew!_ " Caleigh cried as she frantically tried to push through the people between her and Andrew's body.

"Goddamn it, Caleigh!" I screamed as I reached out, trying to stop her. " _Wait!_ "

Shrieking hysterically, Caleigh just barely evaded my grasp but the second she stepped outside to retrieve her lover's body, she too was riddled from plasma caster bolts shot from an unseen enemy. She was dead before she hit the ground.

Fresh screams erupted in the transport interior. One person even vomited, causing the smell of blood and puke to thicken the air. Gagging, I searched around for another way out of here – now that it was readily apparent that the truck _was_ on fire. I looked at the roof across from me and spotted the words " _Pull Here in Case of Emergency_."

Bingo!

Surging towards the escape hatch, I yanked at the lever and pushed it aside, exposing everyone to more of the smoky air. Panicked cries bubbled from everyone as they realized we were leaving and I was the first to make it out, followed closely by Josh.

The first thing that I noticed upon exiting the truck was that the entire sky seemed to be filled with chaotic shapes. The crackle of guns and the hiss-snaps of plasma bolts left no quiet moments among us and we all ducked as we hunkered by the overturned truck, seemingly safe for the time being. Massive winged creatures were flying overhead, their shapes way too organic to be friendly units – Reaper Harvesters. Upon closer inspection, the telltale blue glow of their multiple optics kind of gave it away that they were enemies, as if it was not already evident from them shooting at us.

Multiple vehicles were ablaze on the highway behind us and from here I could see exactly what had caused out truck to overturn. Apparently, the vehicle had taken a direct hit from one of the Harvesters directly to the cabin, killing both the driver and the other occupant. Based on how the side that was currently facing skyward was all gouged up, it was not much of a stretch to assume that the Harvester had rammed it with its massive body, thus causing the flip. We were one of the lucky ones; many other vehicles had exploded by now as their tanks ruptured, killing god knows how many people.

The vehicles near the front, closest to a mountain pass, were still unscathed, so our current destination was clear. I shouted for people to start moving towards the front, but some stayed where they were, paralyzed by fear. I was terrified as well, but I wanted to live most of all, so I just focused on tuning almost everything out – trying not to concentrate on the bigger picture.

For now, I just needed to run.

My breathing became a steady and quick tempo as I tried to run with all my gear on me. I was hefting a medium to large backpack all while wearing combat armor, plus I was toting a rifle as I ran. Since I was not an Olympic sprinter nor in peak condition, it took me a longer time than usual to make a hundred meters. I used multiple vehicles for cover, not even bothering to duck as I just blew by them, spotting a quartet of soldiers firing at something over to our right, into the thick pine trees.

Everyone was now shooting their guns except me. I was solely concentrating on running that I did not realize at first that I was no longer being followed. Sensing a lack of presence at my back, I turned as I reached a totaled Mako tank and saw that most of the militia, including Josh, were hunkered behind another overturned truck. They were firing at something that I still couldn't see but based on the gravelly sounds made from the modified freaks, they were pretty damn close.

I leaned out to shout over to Josh but a stray bolt unexpectedly punched through some of the Mako's outer armor, and caught the rifle, throwing it out of my grip.

"Fuck!" I yelped as my fingers started throbbing. I bent down to pick the rifle back up but then I saw the enormous hole that had been punched through the weapon, black and sparking. All of the lights and readouts on the gun were dead, useless. I left the rifle where it was.

Now down to just my pistol, I waited for a lull in the shooting so that I could call out again, this time making sure that I was in better cover.

"Josh!" I screamed at the top of my voice, hoping to grab his attention. "Get over here, now!"

He heard my voice and did a double-take in my direction, like he was incredulous at what I wanted.

"No way, Sam!" he protested as he resumed firing in short bursts. " _You_ come here! We need your help with these guys!"

"Forget them!" I screeched. "Fucking drop what you're doing and come this way! We're going to be left behind if you don't stop dawdling!"

Josh gritted his teeth as he continued to fire against the unseen onslaught. He was much better suited for combat than I was and I envied that he had no fear. But being brave did not necessarily go hand in hand with intelligence. Nevertheless, he ignored the rest of my pleading and threw himself wholesale into fighting the Reapers.

I was about to call him one last time when a high-pitched whistle split the air. Everyone in the vicinity looked up to spot one of the Harvesters heading right for us. The sunlight was translucent behind the membranes of its wings and all I could see was a ball of red slowly growing from inside the creature's throat. As it zoomed over my head, I threw myself to the ground, feeling the blistering heat of the plasma expulsion on my back.

And then I saw Josh silently gaping at me, his lips forming a word that I couldn't make out before he vanished in a wall of flame, the resulting explosion crashing in my ears.

Josh…

" _Noooo!_ " I screamed as the flames died down. There was no sign of my friend, nor any of the people who had been near him. What was left was simply a smoking crater and tiny flames dancing around the circumference. I stood up, face pouring with sweat, about to shout out in anguish again when a bellow sounded from behind me.

Slowly, I turned around, heart in my throat. Something big began to step out from the haze, tiny blue eyes dancing amongst the smoke. With a scraping sound, a large form of a creature that looked to be an amalgamation of a turian's head on top of a krogan's stocky frame stepped forward: a brute. It was more than twice as tall as I was, with arms as thick as tree trunks. It pounded its chest much like a simian would do and uttered another roar, hungry for blood.

My pistol would be useless against it and I figured that I was a goner. But the brute strangely did not leap at me right away. Maybe it was the fact that I was frozen stiff that had it confused. Perhaps its vision was based on movement. I looked around me for a weapon, praying for my body to stop trembling, but found nothing that I could consider helpful. No grenades, no rocket launcher, nothing.

But then, I noticed that the pavement underneath the creature was covered by a thick, white mist. The Mako's fuel tank was ruptured and it was leaking a clear substance before it immediately started to evaporate: liquid hydrogen. Now I knew where that acrid smell was coming from and I should have been more worried. At this stage, though, it would take a lot to deter me.

So slowly that I was almost inching my arm down, I plucked a road flare from my belt and quickly prepared to ignite it. The brute finally seemed to determine that I was, in fact, alive after all and it lowered its body down to begin a charge.

I was feeling oddly poetic at the moment so my mind was spinning up a string of memorable words that I thought sounded good. "Behold…" I began as I slammed the flare against my thigh, causing bright red flames to burst forth, "…the intricate and subtle weaving of my arcane-,"

The brute, having none of my shtick, charged me mid-sentence, interrupting my soliloquy.

"Oh, fuck it!" I broke off and tossed the flare. "You're fired!"

I had turned to run away from the resulting explosion, which was probably the smartest thing that I could have done in that situation. On the other hand, because I'm stupid, I completely forgot just how flammable liquid hydrogen is, even if it is in an evaporating state. It does not behave like gasoline would; a flare would not ignite a puddle of gas on the ground but it was more than enough to do the trick for liquid hydrogen. As such, the conflagration was…impressive, to say the least. Too bad I did not see it happen.

I sure felt it, though.

There was a whump and I suddenly found myself flying towards the edge of the highway as an invisible hand picked me up and bodily threw me across the road. I felt warmth on my back, momentarily rising to the point where I felt blistered, sweat springing forth immediately. I landed on the soft earth and rolled, the hairs on the back of my head burned and smoking. I pushed myself up with my arms and dumbly stared at the mess that I had created.

The brute was a smoking and crumpled hulk on the ground. The entire Mako was ripped to shreds from the explosion, the burnt hydrogen giving off a pungent scent of ozone. Guess my foolhardy plan worked in some fashion.

Hands grabbed at my shoulder and hauled me to my feet. Captain Lewis was suddenly in my face, his jaw opening and closing silently. It then occurred to me that I could not hear – I had been so close to that last explosion that my tortured ears could no longer take it. I was deaf. For how long, I had no idea, but I hoped that it was temporary and not permanent.

Lewis seemed to catch on to this fact about the same time that I did and began pushing me urgently towards the convoy. It seemed that he wanted me to run. I could see husks and cannibals pouring from the tree line while the soldiers struggled to hold them off – a good incentive for me to get moving. There was a fresh transport just sixty meters away – a doable distance. I quickly rushed toward it, miraculously managing not to get shot, and some of the men helped haul me aboard. When Lewis clambered up to join me, the truck rocked as it started to accelerate, leaving the battlefield.

It was eerie, not being able to hear properly. As I just sat dumbly on the ground in the truck, I could see all of the soldiers around me yelling their heads off, yet I could interpret none of the sounds. The pulsating bass of weapons fire registered as only vibrations through my body, giving me a slightly detached feeling. It is very odd to see a machine gun on full auto, fire blasting from the barrel, and to not hear the bangs when it is so close to your head.

I had to struggle to keep myself from sliding all over the place as the truck lurched to and fro, trying to evade the Reaper attackers. It was complete pandemonium. Everyone seemed to be firing in all directions on board the vehicle and I could only get flashes of the tops of trees and blue sky as my eyes rapidly glazed over my surroundings. My throat constricted and I felt short of breath. I wondered if I was having a heart attack. No, that couldn't be right. I was too young to be having heart problems. A panic attack, maybe?

I have no idea why I decided to stand up in the truck with all of the weapon discharges going on around me, but I felt somehow compelled. Maybe it was to gain Lewis' attention? For what, I had no idea but I had the inane need to say something when an object hurtled down from the sky just behind the transport.

A Harvester, its wings completely shot to pieces, unable to hold itself aloft, careened into the ground after being practically shredded from the combined fire from both the tanks and the marines. It smashed into the highway that shook all of the vehicles traveling on it and detonated with the force of a small bomb. Red electricity sizzled from the epicenter and bits of wires and stringy flesh were flung in every direction, warding off the rest of the attacking aerial units.

Again, I did not witness the explosion with my own eyes because I had been facing the front of the transport at this time. I was just about to speak when something slammed into the back of my head, pain only registering for a nanosecond.

Things became dark after that.

* * *

" _Hey there."_

 _I opened my eyes after a hand gently stroked my cheek. My vision blurred for a second before it settled on a familiar sight. I turned over onto my back on the bed, letting out a groan as I got into a more comfortable position, the sheets sliding down to my waist. It then occurred to me that I was clad in only shorts, but strangely, I didn't mind. Most likely because the enviro-suited individual next to me continued to touch me slowly and sensually, her breathing rasping with lust._

" _Hey yourself," I smiled at Nya for but a moment until it turned into a frown. "This doesn't make sense. You can't be here. I can't be here."_

 _Nya did not seem to listen and she slowly sat up from lying on the bed, moving a leg over my body until she was straddling me. My limbs felt heavy and my mouth gaped open stupidly._

 _The quarian chuckled at my dumb expression. "You seem surprised. What's bothering you? Do you not want me to be here?"_

" _No, that's not it," I hastily shook my head as my arms were freed from the weight tying them down, grasping onto Nya's hips urgently. "I do want you. More than anything." I then bit my lip. "I'm dreaming, aren't I? That's what's bothering me."_

" _Yes, but is that so bad?" Nya said in a seductive tone. She started to run her fingers through my hair, teasing and tousling the strands. Her pelvis was starting to shift into me and I clenched my jaw together, fighting to control myself._

 _My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips, finding no moisture in the air. "It's just…I would give anything for this to be real."_

 _Now a three-fingered hand gently brushed over my features, dragging the gloved tips down my eyes, nose, and mouth, exactly the same way the day that we had last seen each other in person. Nya leaned in close, mere inches away, and I imagined that I could feel her hot breath on my neck, despite the mask that was in the way._

" _It won't be for much longer…" came her cryptic whisper._

 _I was about to ask for more details, my eyes pleading for her to speak again, but she simply lifted her hands up to her face, near where the latches of her mask were. There was a hiss of air as the seal broke apart and a sucking sound as the isolated suit quickly pressurized to the environment._

 _Peeling the visor off her helmet, Nya leaned in to give me a passionate kiss._

* * *

A hard bump caused my eyes to open as a twinge of pain flared all the way down my spine. I groaned out loud, partly in pain, partly in despair at having my good dream cut short. Just when I had been getting to the good part, too. They were certainly much better than those constant flashbacks to Taylor when she had been alive, yet they were almost as torturous.

I had the most splitting headache ever and I was confused as to where I was. It took some time before my eyes, unused to my surroundings, could properly distinguish where I was. All I could see was the roof of a transport truck – so I was still on board. Judging by how it was rumbling underneath me, it was currently idling. I also noticed that I could hear the truck's engine, which meant that some of my hearing had recovered while I was out, so that was a good thing.

My head throbbed mightily once more and my hands automatically came to my temples, but touched a thick bandage instead of skin. My fingers traced the bandage and discovered that it was wrapped all around my head, noticeably flaring up when I applied pressure directly to the back of my skull.

What the hell happened?

"Whoa. Easy, Doc," Lewis' face suddenly came into view as he leaned over me. "You took a nasty bump there, so just take it slow."

"Lewis…" I mumbled around a parched throat. I coughed, hoping to add more moisture. "What happened to me?"

Lewis looked apologetic and he clenched his hands together. "We brought down a Harvester with our sustained fire and it crashed into the road, just barely missing us. It exploded, and a piece of shrapnel must have caught you in the back of the head for you collapsed like a rock and started bleeding all over the place."

So the wound _was_ on the back of my head. I shudder to think at how much blood was spilled. Head wounds can bleed a lot due to all of the blood vessels congregated in that area.

"How bad?" I whispered.

"Knocked unconscious bad. The shrapnel nicked you all the way to the bone. Luckily, we were able to use the medi-gel that we had on hand to get you all patched up. You're probably going to have a nasty scar there, though."

I was not worried about the scar. I was more worried about being knocked unconscious as there were loads of problems that could come from that – a fact that many films rather neglect to mention nowadays. Hell, I might have gotten a form of brain damage just from being given that sort of tap on the head, but my hopes of diagnosing the specific damage were shaky, unless anyone had a CT scanner that they could pull out of their ass.

"Shit," was all I could say as I felt the bandage looped around my head again. "How long…has it been since…?"

"Almost four hours," came his emotionless response.

"Who's left among us?"

Lewis sighed and steeped his hands as he momentarily bowed his head. "Two Makos were destroyed in that attack. The last Hammerhead was blown up as well. Among the regular units and militia, we only have three transports left. And…we lost one of the civilian buses."

Jesus, that was at least a hundred people dead. We were almost down to half our strength from when we had set out from Seattle. In just the blink of an eye, everything had gone all pear-shaped. War fucking sucks, was all I could think.

I accepted the news with nary a reaction from my end. It must have been the painkillers or my lethargy, but my cold expression did not crack a bit. Instead, I sucked air into my nostrils as I slowly sat myself up. Lewis tried to force me back down but I pushed his arm aside. My head was literally pounding so hard that it was easy to imagine it exploding, but I persevered until I was sitting all the way up. The headache began to slowly ebb away as I stopped moving, much to my relief.

Lewis tried to push me down again but I savagely knocked his arms away. "Don't fucking touch me," I growled.

"You're not going anywhere, McLeod."

"Oh yeah?" I sneered. "Who died and made _you_ the doctor? I'm not dead yet so don't even think about telling me what I can and cannot do."

Trying to prove my point, I began to slowly stand up from the truck's bench but my legs quickly buckled and I sat back down, my face contorted in pain. I clutched at my head as I breathed hard and Lewis just shook his head.

"You done trying to kill yourself?" Lewis scowled at me. "Trust me, I don't need anyone else dying needlessly, especially after today."

"That's not it at all," I shot back, not even glancing at the captain. "That's not even the fucking point."

"Oh really? Enlighten me."

"I don't even need to do _that_."

"Excuse me?"

I fiercely pointed at my chest, soon pounding at it in a defiant manner. "I said I don't need to explain anything to you. I just watched a good friend die in front of my eyes today…and for what? Following your orders? If you just order me to stay behind, that does nothing to help us! Their sacrifice – our sacrifice – will just be meaningless otherwise. I need to know why I've stuck it out with you for this long and I won't find it lying in a fucking bed!"

"What you need," Lewis said sternly, "is to rest and recover from your injuries. The wound you sustained,-"

"-Is already healed over. You said so yourself. This-," I reached up and ripped the bandage off my head with a growl of discomfort, noting the large blood stain, "-is not worth slowing down for. I've come too far to get what I've wanted and I'm not going to be sitting on my ass because you said so. I'm here now, and I don't care if I got whacked on the head. I'm as fit as anyone else on this planet. Just tell me where the fuck we are and give me something to do but _don't tell me_ to lie down and rest. I'm done with that shit…sir."

Lewis crossed his arms, seemingly annoyed. "Out of all the people I have had to manage, you've certainly been the most abrasive. At least a subordinate would have had the right mind to ask permission to speak candidly."

"Yeah, well I'm not in _your_ army," I said slowly, emphasizing every syllable. "I did not want this, remember? But all you wanted was my cooperation and I've given it. That doesn't mean that I'm going to let you trod over me, especially now."

"And why is now important?"

Oh, because London was where the site of the final Reaper battle was going to take place. Because that is where the entire might of the galaxy will gather in an effort to combat their true enemy. And most of all, because there is a strong chance that Nya was going to be there with her people. I find the quarians, I find Nya.

Hmm, that's not really an acceptable answer to give to the captain.

"Because getting to London is important for me," I said instead.

"What do _you_ know about London?"

"Just enough," I said, trying to flirt away from the dangerous subject. "It's obviously important to you which makes it important to me by association. Something big is going down and I'm not going to miss it if I have the ability to help in some capacity, bump or no bump. Now answer me: where the hell are we right now?"

Lewis shrugged, looking strangely unknowing until he stood up and kicked open the back hatch, allowing cold air to pour in. The whine of engines filled the compartment and he helped me down from the transport, where my boots hit flat pavement.

The tall slopes of the Rockies were less than a mile away, covered in green and white. The spiked spires of a chapel loomed above the forest to the northwest. The flat plain that spread before me was long and grassy – a runway. The sheer number of people that were gathering around the tarmac overwhelmed me at first, and then I saw the rows of shuttles that they were piling into. Gunships hovered over the airport, ball turrets swiveling, and shuttle after shuttle gradually rose into the air, skimming low over the ground as their engines began to kick up.

Limping from the beaten up truck, I looked back at Lewis, who gestured to the nearest shuttle with a tight grin.

" _This_ is where the hell we are," he announced. "Welcome to the Air Force Academy, Doc. You wanted a way to London? Well, here it is."

Well…I'll be damned.

I said nothing as I stumbled aboard the craft and shakily found a seat (Lewis headed for another shuttle) but I had to reason that although the captain could be irritating at times, he could also be one glorious son of a bitch under certain circumstances.

As the shuttles regrouped en masse, I tried to settle in for the long haul, but between the throbbing in my head and the adrenaline rushing through my veins, remaining calm was an impossibility. Three hours to London from here and my legs were still shaking uncontrollably.

I guess I had picked a bad time to quit smoking.

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapters are going to take a little bit longer to upload, since I am starting work full-time next week. No telling just how long it will take, but rest assured, I will do my best to work on the story whenever I have the time (and the coffee).**

 **And on that bombshell, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks again for reading and supporting this story - it really does mean a lot to me.**


	20. Chapter 20: Intangible Transcendence

Three hours from Colorado to London at the shuttle's current speed. Eat your heart out, Concorde. Oh, how I loathed the days of ancient transportation that used fossil fuels to power jet turbines in order to crawl at a comparatively agonizing pace towards whatever destination, and that was just on this planet. People who complained about how long public transportation took today had no idea just how bad it once was. In my opinion, the whiners should simply shut their faces.

Although in this case, it probably helped that we were being ferried through the power of military efficiency. Set schedules, set flight patterns, all planned out ahead in advance in order to note every conceivable way that a mission could go south. You have to admire the attention to detail that the armed forces so covets as it does show whenever they carry out their operations.

What the military lacked in, however, was comfort. A normal passenger on a normal shuttle could expect plush seats, in-flight entertainment, and a drinks cart served by a smiling flight attendant. Here, it was hard plastic for a bench with a hell of a lot of background noise to go with it and nary a bottle of champagne to be found. Amazingly, since my head was still groggy from being knocked out, I was able to get a few winks in the time we were airborne. By the time I slowly came to, we were approaching London, ready to disembark at a moment's notice.

That grogginess vanished as, for a moment, my heart jumped when I began to feel weightless but I realized that the shuttle was just in the process of descending. Guess we must be closer than I thought. Anyway, this was perfectly normal behavior for shuttles like these. Nothing to panic about here. Absolutely no reason to worry at all. No reason whatso-

"Oh, shit!" the pilot exclaimed from the front.

Of course.

There was no time to ask for clarification. All I knew was that something obviously not good was about to happen, most likely with fatal results.

I almost did not grab at the safety belts in time before the craft shuddered violently after a bang reverberated throughout the hull, throwing everyone that was not belted down into the wall as the acceleration dampeners failed. My vision began graying out immediately as I realized the shuttle was spinning in the air and I shut my eyes as I felt sick. My head was pounding so hard it felt like someone was hammering me on the back of the skull over and over again. I shouted amongst the din of terrified passengers, my own voice swallowed up in the cacophony.

Squinting past my nausea, I saw the pilot at the front wrestling with the controls, trying to bring the shuttle back under control. It was all for naught and I did not need to be told that we had just been hit by enemy fire. A graze, perhaps, for if it had been a direct hit, we would probably be dead.

I closed my eyes again and drew every limb that was still attached to my body in as closely as possible. Every single strand of muscle seemed to be oozing with stress and panic, saturated with fear. My paralyzed hands locked themselves together and I began to count, as measured as I could, the seconds that passed by while we were still in the air.

It was when I got to twenty did I realize that something was amiss. Either I was counting way too fast, or we were hardly falling from the sky at all. I was about to make a wry comment to myself as a bit of an aside for my benefit when my entire world jolted painfully and the cabin plunged into darkness.

* * *

No, I did not black out this time. That would not have been very good for my nervous system if I had.

Instead, I realized that I had simply been stricken with a slight case of being shell-shocked. Well, how else is someone supposed to feel after they've been in a crash involving a flying vehicle?

I knew that I was suffering from an extended effect of my body's fight-or-flight response, as self-diagnosed due to the intense and uncanny sensations of everything moving in slow-motion not of my accord and how much effort it took to move my limbs even a few inches. As I unhooked my safety belt, the effort seemingly taking years, I could hear the individual clicks and scrapes as the metal broke free of the plastic housing. I stumbled forward, nearly tripping several times on the bodies that lined the floor of the shuttle – those who had not been secured fast enough and whose bones had been smashed to pieces as they had tumbled around the stricken craft. My chest hurt – I might have cracked some ribs when the whiplash from crashing had shunted me forward – but otherwise I was still quite mobile, to my amazement. They say that any crash you walk away from is a good one.

Still, my ribs were going to limit my movement unless I did something about it. Using my omni-tool, I ordered the mini-injectors in my combat vest to apply a small dose of medi-gel to my affected area. The needles were supposed to be painless but I could feel them puncture my body just fine and by that I mean quite painfully, as demonstrated by the yelp I let out when I felt them stabbing into my skin. The medi-gel would flood my cavity and provide additional bone support. God, if the bottom thrusters on the shuttle had not been firing while we had been falling, I probably would not want to imagine just how much of a mess I would have been.

My ears were ringing, but I could still hear fine. I had not been deafened again, but it was as if I could make out every little sound made within a fifty meter radius around me, from the blast of a grenade to the soft tinkle as a pane of glass gently tumbled to the ground.

It was weird, being in this state of hyper-awareness. The catecholamine hormones currently sloshing around my system were messing up all of my senses, but I had enough coherence to reach down into the armor slot on my thigh, withdraw one of the syringes embedded inside without pricking myself too early, and jab it into my leg.

Oh crap, was my thought, despite that I had done the previous action quite consciously. I just made a big mistake.

That was all talk on my end, but the effects of injecting an entire dose of Diazepam into my body were most certainly not going to be good. Hell, that stuff is used to treat anxiety on a normal basis, _not_ shell-shock!

In any case, the tenseness was beginning to fade and my limbs no longer felt so stiff. I was feeling a little clammier and my muscles were jittering uncontrollably – evidence of my going over the allotted drug amount – but at least I was out of my impaired state. It's the little things in life, I tend to say. Trying not to let the shakes get to me, I hauled myself towards the shuttle door with a grunt and stumbled out into the eternal night.

The first thing that I noticed was that there was hardly any wind. The outside felt stale, very still, that I wondered for a second if this was normal or if I was starting to trip on a Diazepam overdose. Then, an explosion materialized in mid-air just a half mile away, giving sound and pressure a chance to make their presence known in an otherwise voiceless vacuum, nearly knocking me over again.

The second thing that popped into my head was that this section of London looked an awful lot like Detroit right about now. Or Berlin during the War.

That was not to imply that London looked like a ghetto all the time, but the effects of the combat ripping through its streets certainly took a toll on the infrastructure of the famed city. Buildings were shelled, many of the walls punched in to expose the dry innards. Bricks shaken loose from the foundations tumbled down in piles, blocking the streets. Smoke filled the overcast sky, the stars and moon completely drowned out. And above the din roared the ever-present horns of the Reapers themselves.

Wasn't I just running from this a few days ago?

A bright red light flashed by my face and I almost fell to the ground in surprise. However, it was only a flare and my eyes tracked it as it arced into the air for about a hundred meters before it was extinguished and started to fall back toward the ground. I looked at the man next to me, a soldier unhurt from the crash, who began to put the flare gun back in its holster when his chest suddenly erupted in a series of sprays and he fell, his blood misting onto my clothes. A final shot zipped into his mouth and caused his head to explode, spewing blood and flesh everywhere. I got one look at what remained of the man's skull while my mouth gaped in horror: just a lower jaw and a tongue lolling out between gaps in broken teeth while the stump gushed blood.

Startled, I jumped backward and nearly busted my ass as I tripped over a loose brick. I reached back for my rifle but my hands found nothing. Stupid of me; I had forgotten that I had left it back on the highway in Colorado after it had been shot to pieces. All I had to defend myself was a flimsy pistol and that was not going to do me any good against all the horrors that were lying in wait beyond my line of sight. I remembered this part of the game by now – the final level on Earth. I could recall enough that I did not like this part when I had played it.

That sentiment was shared by many others, for that matter. The general consensus was that the finale was rather…disappointing. Not with a bang, but with a whimper, eh?

The men and woman who were mobile enough to run were shooting blindly into the night, the gun reports echoing down the deserted city streets, the flashes creating a schizophrenic series of strobes upon the brick walls. I could not see a damn thing and I was pretty sure that none of my allies could either. Everyone was just randomly firing at whatever they thought was an enemy contact, their bodies flailing all over the place as they practically sprayed the entire intersection with bullets, the projectiles ricocheting through the avenues.

I joined in the rabble by yanking free the pistol, despite how ineffective I knew it was, and opened fire as well, also not bothering to aim my weapon properly. This was quite dangerous, but when in Rome…

Answering flashes from dark corners responded in earnest, the reports zipping by my head. Yelping in panic, I dove for cover behind the downed shuttle – now firmly focused on my safety first and foremost. Others tried to get to where I was but many of them were downed by the hail of plasma bolts before then, crumpling in the streets. One unlucky person caught a beam in the back of the chest and he practically erupted in a geyser, spraying blood and bone everywhere in a dark burst as his upper torso vanished. I only saw the initial expulsion but did not concentrate on the rest, although I would be remiss if I did not admit that, out of morbid curiosity, I stole a few glances at what remained of the corpse.

Ew…I could see the tip of his spine poking out of the-

Christ, _enough_! This reaction was completely horrible! Granted, it would be worse if I curled up into a ball and started crying because of the traumatizing sight, but going all cold and anatomical about death did not bode well for my state of mind, either.

Look at this mess. I'm a doctor displaced from another time period that's been conscripted to fight in a war that I never wanted to be in. Why do I always get deposited into a situation where violence is rampant? Average people are not subjected to this amount of bloodshed in their lives, so why am I helping to skew that curve upward? Can't anyone in this universe figure out their own problems before pulling out a gun as their solution? The answer, apparently, is a resounding no!

More people were falling around me, downed by the never-ending gunfire, but I think that all the Diazepam that I had injected was starting to take its toll, because I was calmly hunkered down in my secure position and hardly reacting as, one by one, the brains of the soldiers nearby were splattering the pavement. I would have joined the dead in moments as well, if it were not for the sudden wall of sound and light that swept over me as a shuttle, painted black, rocketed over the nearby rooftops and hovered just a foot above the ground after a quick descent, attracted from the flare fired earlier.

Thank merciful Jesus, my ride had arrived.

Getting up and making a break for it, I could not tell just how much the toll of sprinting was having on my body. I may have been wheezing for breath but that did not mean that I could tell that my lungs were starved of oxygen, about to implode upon themselves. All I cared about was making it to that shuttle, never mind if my respiratory system shriveled away as I did so.

A stray bolt zoomed out and caught a woman in front of me who had also been hustling to catch the craft, blasting her leg off at the knee. She was only a few meters ahead that I was about to make a deviation to retrieve her when several more shots completely boiled her face away. Only giving a small shudder involuntarily, I proceeded on, not wanting to know just how many enemies were behind me. Judging from the high-pitched wails and the hungry roars, they were right on my heels.

As soon as I was but feet away, I took a chance and dove for the shuttle's interior. I landed on my stomach ungracefully, knocking out all my breath. While I gagged on the ground, I could hear someone in the shuttle yell out, " _He's the only one! Take off!_ "

The resulting surge of acceleration was so great that even I could feel it through the dampeners. I found myself pressed to the floor as the shuttle's thrusters on its undercarriage ignited at full power, rocketing it away from the ground. Missile warnings shrieked from the cockpit but the pilot remained calm, coolly increasing the throttle so that it could outrun the projectiles.

By this time, I had regained most of my breath and I stood up to thank my rescuers when I was struck by the fact that I could not make out any facial features on the people inside the cabin. Three quarians, decked out in their multicolored suits, stared blankly at me as I gaped just as dumbly back. That was stupid of me. You would think that I would not be surprised to see a quarian after all the time I've spent with them, but I was rendered speechless regardless, even if it was only for a moment.

The shuttle then lurched to the side and I almost fell but a blue-suited male caught me and helped me stand upright before any more damage could be done to my battered body. Grateful, I thanked him for the assistance and repeated it a little more loudly so that everyone in the cabin could know that I appreciated the lifeline that they gave me. They awkwardly conveyed that it was no trouble, their heads shuffling in multiple directions.

Now that the acceleration dampeners had begun to kick in, I noticed that the ride was a whole lot smoother. I stole a glance towards the cockpit and found that, although the craft was stable enough to stand up in, the pilot's hands were a blur as they tried to take care of multiple threats at once. The exterior cameras were not projecting the outside so there was no way for me to easily tell what exactly was happening separate from the shuttle's interior. Instead, the pilot was relying completely on instrumentation – par for the course as combat pilots had been proven to react better to raw data than visual confirmation. The combat software implemented in all attack craft could analyze a whole lot more inputs than an average organic brain. Machines may break but when they don't, they are so much more superior to our flimsy craniums by comparison.

As such, I could only tell, based on the blinking red icons, that the pilot was doing one hell of a job in evading missile after missile, jerking the shuttle back and forth as they skimmed low over the roofs of London. To emasculate me even more, the pilot was simultaneously engaging the front cannons of the Kodiak, blasting Reaper Harvesters out of the air with the kind of deadly precision applicable to a bona fide ace. I could have sworn that they threw in a loop at one point, just to show off. God damn, what a pilot. If I were in that seat I probably would have crashed us into Big Ben for I would be so nervous.

Gradually, my pulse-pounding fear began to ebb as the enemy fire began to slow to a trickle. The pilot's gestures at the virtual controls calmed and the craft eased into a steady and straight path. The copilot began communicating with someone on the other end of the radio, requesting for clearance to land at the FOB near the Thames. That was the cue that the battle was done for now and I let out a breath that I had been painfully holding in, unlocking my knees at the same time. Any longer on both and I would have passed out.

I sagged into an empty seat and dabbed at my soaked brow while I waited for the shuttle to land.

* * *

There was barely any time for me to relax, in truth. Two minutes after I had taken a seat, I felt a bump as the shuttle set itself down on the ground, wherever this place was. The Kodiak doors slid open and the quarian soldiers began to shuffle outside, leaving me to catch my breath alone in the cabin.

The copilot extricated himself from the seat and gave me a quizzical look before he too departed. "You're not leaving?" he asked.

I gave a dismissive wave in his direction. "I'll be going in a few." I raised my eyebrows as my polite side hinted something to me. "Spectacular flying back there, my good man. Really, well done."

"Thank you, but I don't deserve any of the credit," the quarian dipped his head in appreciation. "That honor belongs to my colleague."

With that, he stepped out the door, allowing the pilot to rise from their seat unnoticed, only finally drawing attention to themselves when I detected a slight bit of movement out of the corner of my eye.

And my heart stopped.

It was so obvious. Where else had I seen piloting like that before? Whose dream ambition was it to get to this point for a career? Maybe it was time to believe in fate because I could not explain how it was that Nya and I ended up staring at each other like this, just mere feet away from the other with our gazes linked, frozen in complete shock.

Nya had changed a bit since I last saw her. Her visor was a bit more angular, shaped to reflect where her occupation had taken her, perhaps? The ornate seal connecting her traditional hood to the rest of the cloth swathed across her was now in the center, giving her suit better symmetry. She had ditched the tattered half-cloak around her waist, streamlining her appearance. Her stance was confident and poised – the look of someone fully in control of their situation. By comparison, I was slumped in my seat and still panting, completely run ragged, but Nya dropped her rigid posture as well the instant she laid eyes on me.

Words could not describe, so I did not bother.

I leaped out of my seat and ran forward, picking up Nya in an enormous bear hug and twirled her around and around in the shuttle, tightly holding her close to my body. Nya squealed in delight and I laughed in pure joy, a feeling that I had not felt in what seemed to be an eternity. Nothing in recent memory, or long term for that matter, could compare to this strong elation that was energizing me – being reunited with a loved one.

There could hardly be a better feeling than this.

Smiling so broadly that my cheeks hurt, I set Nya back on her feet as my hands came to cup her helmeted head. She mimicked my movements and we swayed on the spot, each staring deep into the other's eyes – too overwhelmed to speak at first. We were breathing hard, trembling in excitement, and almost bouncing on our toes that another round of whirlwind hugging might not be completely out of the question yet.

"You…" I managed to choke out, "…I should have known!" Ruffling her hood energetically I began to laugh again. "You brilliant, wonderful, beautiful woman! Who else could have flown like that?!"

Nya, overcome with such a strong mixture of emotions, burrowed her head into the crook of my neck, holding onto me tightly like there was the chance that I could inexplicably vanish at any point. Our warm bodies pressed into the other and our hands gently caressed whatever part of our partner that was within reach.

"I knew you would keep your promise, you bosh'tet," Nya whispered tenderly. "I knew this day would come. Ancestors, who could have predicted that it could have been – _Keelah!_ "

Nya took a half-step backward in surprise and both of our eyes widened. "What?" I asked. "Nya, what's wrong?"

"What's _wrong?_ " she repeated in disbelief. "Sam, you're covered in blood!"

I lifted a hand up to my face and ran it across my skin. Dried flakes of blood came off as I stared at my palm and I wiped myself down some more to check for any spots I might have missed.

"I'm fine," I quickly assured. "It's not mine!" The image of seeing half a man's head fly apart right next to me, most likely the direct cause of how I came to be coated with blood, was none too pleasing and I shut my eyes forcefully to ward off reliving the moment.

"Thank the Ancestors for that," Nya sighed in relief as she too tried to help scour away the dried liquid. Her fingertips brushed over my face quickly but precisely and I stood still, letting her work at her own pace.

When it became apparent that she was being a little _too_ attentive to that task, I raised my hands and caught her wrists, eliciting a laugh from my end as she blinked in confusion. "Okay, okay!" I chuckled ruefully. "That's quite enough. Wow, lady, I didn't think that I looked _that_ bad."

"You're acting quite aloof for someone who's got someone else's blood on your face, just want to point that out."

"What good is keeping my promise to you if I can't keep myself sane for this moment?" I shrugged and Nya put her hands on her hips apprehensively. I shook my head a couple times. "God…it is good to see you, Nya."

"Come here," Nya whispered throatily and we moved in for another hug. This was significantly more tender than the last one and I rested my forehead against the top of Nya's helmet. We held each other right there in that shuttle until we heard a distinct crackling sound emit from the outside. How about that, we almost forgot that there was a war going on.

Breaking apart, Nya gave me a once-over, murmuring in approval. "You look good in that armor, Sam. Why didn't you mention that you were going to sign up to fight?"

"Because there was no time. I was…ah, forcefully conscripted due to certain circumstances beyond my control. And my looks, ridiculous they might be, have sadly not improved my aim much."

"Well, _I_ think you look pretty cool."

The outside beckoned once more when the distant roar of a Reaper a few miles away shattered the relative silence around us. Giving each other a worried look, we did not need to communicate out loud the fact that we should try to reconnect in a place that was a little less ominous. Nya took charge and grabbed my hand, leading me out of the craft and into the night air. It was my first time seeing the forward operating base in person and it was a precise mechanism of logistics and efficiency. Tanks of various makes were organized in rows at the motor pool, soldiers lined up in formation while their commanding officers yelled out their briefings, and small carts shuttled people to and fro like a crowded terminal at a skyport. It was a madhouse.

Nya led me away from all that and towards a set of stairs that led down from the streets, beneath the pavement. The famous red sign overlooking the entrance told me all that I needed to know. We were headed into the famous London Underground, one of the many stations of the endlessly renovated rapid transit system that was responsible for shuttling millions of Londoners around the city each day…whenever there was not a war going on overhead. According to the signs, we were heading into the Great Portland Street station. No clue if that was a particularly famous station or not, but that was where we were headed.

Silently, we stole down the steps and happened upon what I guessed was some kind of staging area. A quarian staging area, to be specific. The suited aliens were all over the place as they appeared to be working a camp for their soldiers, having cordoned off the tube station to make sure that their people had a place to rest. A few geth units provided assistance with lifting heavy objects; the fact that the two races had made peace with the other was one that I had nearly forgotten. If Nya had harbored any deep-seated animosity towards the geth in the past, she sure did not show it for she edged past a cluster of units without so much as shying away in fear.

Hopping onto the tracks, we walked in what I presumed to be an easterly direction for about five minutes, not happening onto another living soul in that time period. As we walked, we got to aimlessly chatting about what we had been up to in the interim since we last saw the other. I told Nya how I had been uprooted from my vacation on the Pacific coast and being forced to live in the middle of nowhere for about half a year, a tidbit that she appeared to find amusing at just how stressed it made me. Nya was saddened when I told her about Josh's death and she comforted me during the tale by holding my hand as my voice faltered and cracked.

Nya, on the other hand, had been in several more chaotic situations than me and had subsequently been on edge the entire time as opposed to my duller chronicle. She told me that she had piloted one of the frigates during the Rannoch campaign, back when the quarians and the geth were still fighting, and helped run support for Admiral Xen's fleet while more heavily damaged ships fled the combat area. She described how it felt for her to fight alongside the famed ship, the _Normandy_ , and to be present when all of the geth stopped fighting once the Reaper presence had been removed. To hear her awed voice speak of stepping on her homeworld and touching the soil as her people had done centuries ago was incredible. I really wish that I had been there to witness her reaction instead of squatting in some bushes in rural Wyoming.

Nya finally slowed just as we were finishing our anecdotes and sat on one of the concrete islands that separated the two tube tracks, precisely underneath the spot where moonlight filtered through a grating a couple meters above us, providing a nice bit of ambient lighting.

"So," Nya said impishly as she crossed her arms, her legs dangling over the concrete lip. "Quick question."

I teetered on one of the train tracks, trying to keep my balance. "Shoot."

"It's something I've been thinking about. You know, concerning you saying that your first experience with…all this, was in a video game."

"Oh, Jesus," I muttered as I ran a hand through my hair. "Don't tell me you still believe that to be true after all this time. Even _I_ have trouble believing it sometimes."

Nya just shrugged, damn her. People get institutionalized for those types of outbursts back in the day and she was treating this glibly, without a modicum of doubt for me. "You explained your case fairly well, to my recollection. Add to the fact that you recounted events that had not happened yet which turned out to be true, namely the krogan genophage being cured and the geth conflict being resolved, and so on. Suffice to say that I believe you, even if you may have trouble believing it yourself. It's just that, if you knew that all this was going to happen, why did you not try to position yourself directly in the events of the game alongside Shepard?"

It kind of figured that such a question would be weighing on her mind, even if I had determined the answer for myself a long time ago. Granted, who wouldn't want to take part in their favorite video game, fighting bad guys and wooing babes in an entirely fictional world? What people failed to take into account was what their reaction would be like when fiction became reality. For most, I would like to think that most people would try to do what I did, even if others failed to understand my reasoning.

"You know," I waggled a finger in her direction, "I asked myself the same question when I first got here. It wasn't a hard decision, to be honest. It just boiled down to one simple fact: what the hell could I, a random civilian with no relevant skills of a soldierly nature, do to help Shepard in any way?"

"A good point," Nya conceded. "But maybe you could have done something more subtle, like sending an anonymous tip, perhaps. Surely the idea must have sounded enticing."

Considering the option for a moment, I paced up and down the tracks before I carefully formulated my answer. It had been enticing…for all of two seconds. Then the images of warfare and the memories of virtual bodies lining the streets of distant planets had grown too large for me to ignore. The idea had quickly turned sour.

"The main reason why I didn't do anything at first, besides my complete inability to wage war, was due to the worry that any actions that I might do towards key characters in the video game could screw up future events, rendering me being unable to predict those events and use them to my advantage. I think that it's safe to say that anything I do now won't have as big of an impact as I initially feared, as it's too late to change anything drastic. But at the time, I figured that I would have made no difference even if I had tried, and if I somehow did succeed in gaining Shepard's attention, I would be forced to become a soldier on his travels, an occupation I have desperately tried to avoid due to my complete disinterest in fighting." I tapped on my combat vest with a sheepish smile. "Needless to say I failed on that front."

"But does all this destruction," Nya spread her arms wide, "amount to anything? Does any good come out of it? Are we destined to die here…or do we win?"

That was an interesting question. I grinned tightly and leaned against the opposite wall, considering just how detailed into the game mechanics that I wanted to delve. Maybe I could option for the Cliffs Notes version - that would suffice.

"The way the game was set up was that there were four possible endings, some of which needed certain conditions to unlock but mostly by the end they were based completely upon player choice – Shepard's choice. Three out of the four endings can be good for us – meaning that there is a definite chance that we will get out of this alive should we survive that long. The bad ending has us losing, no other way of putting it, but certain events are set up so that the next cycle of intelligent life learns from our mistakes and goes on to defeat the Reapers."

There was no change in Nya's reaction, which either meant that she was stupefied at how I was seemingly babbling, or she was rapt with attention. Personally, I would not put it against her if the former turned out to be the case.

"As for the good endings," I went on, stressing the word 'good' with a slightly derisive snort, "one ends up with the Reapers being destroyed, but anything that runs on their technology, the geth and the relays, et cetera, are rendered inoperable. Another ending winds up with the Reapers being controlled by another artificial intelligence and used to rebuild the damage done from the war – again, we survive. The third ending has all forms of live inoculated with synthetic attributes, creating a new type of DNA in the process. Don't ask me how it's done because I have no freaking clue, but this synthesis is apparently the evolution that both organic and synthetic life strives to reach and will inexplicably make us on the same evolutionary level as the Reapers, thus solving the combat." I made a face and held my palms out apologetically. "I really don't know how to explain that last one best. It sounds like a crock of shit, to be honest."

"And if I'm being honest," Nya finally piped up. "Pretty much all of those endings sound lame."

I found myself nodding. "I agree. It must have been a writing problem or a deadline issue because a great many people were disappointed with the endings."

"It sounds more like one of those stupid stories that teenagers write on the extranet, thinking that they're the next great author or something when in fact all they write is terrible fiction doing nothing but stealing concepts from other franchises as a way to springboard their own ideas."

"I know, I know," I agreed, nodding while my mouth made a thin line.

"I mean _, synthesis?_ " Nya seemed fascinated at the ludicrousness of the concept. "That has the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I mean, how can a new kind of DNA be formed with synthetic attributes? How can a synthetic even have DNA in the first place? For that matter, how will that affect our biology, our integration with tech-,"

"I don't know," I said lamely as I shook my head in disbelief. "I just don't know. I have no freaking clue how it's supposed to work, either. It's…I…" Words failed me, not because I was overcome by some unknown emotion, but because I discovered that I really could not explain the concept of synthesis without sounding more insane than I already believed myself to be. Nearly tearing my hair out in disbelief, I let out a groan. "Errugh. I'm still not entirely sure of myself, talking about the possibility that I'm in a video game, even though it's been years since it happened. Especially since there are so many things that don't make any sense that I need answers to."

"We can find those answers out later. But you won't be alone on that journey," Nya said as she reached out to me. "Come here, Sam. I want you to hold me again."

Never refuse a request from a lady.

I climbed up onto the island and wedged myself against a nearby doorway. Nya scooted herself backwards so that her back was resting against my chest. Our hands started to play with the others and we sighed contently. I noted that the light from the moon cast a milky glow over Nya's suit, making her look quite ethereal.

"I should have asked you to stay," I mumbled out of the blue, slowly becoming woozy from knowing that my friend was in my arms once again. "That day you left, I mean. So much of me just wanted to ask you…but I couldn't."

Nya lolled her head backward. "If you had asked, I would have stayed."

"I know. That's probably why I didn't ask the first time."

The quarian turned her body slightly and her white eyes blinked. "Because you thought I would potentially be throwing away my life, right? Do you think it was all worth it?"

"Do you want my honest answer?" I asked as my grip tightened fractionally on her three-fingered hands.

"I'll know if you're lying anyway," came the blithe retort.

"Then…no," I said just as mildly. "What happened afterward, all that occurred, it was certainly _not_ worth it."

Nya slowly extricated herself from my grip and sat on the opposite side of the doorway so that she could look directly at me. I felt a pang as her presence eluded me for the time being. I wanted her in my arms again, to touch her, to feel her, to share her warmth. She sensed my despair and reached out for me, our fingers gently grasping the other as we cast aside all pretenses between us.

"I'll have you know…" Nya said as she trembled just so slightly, "…that the feeling is completely mutual. Sam, I-,"

"-Before you go blaming yourself for this," I interrupted in a breathy whisper through dry and cracked lips, "because I know that you are the magnanimous sort, I want to be the one to tell you that I'm sorry."

"No, Sam," Nya pleaded as she shook her head, unwilling to listen. "Don't apologize for this. Please don't blame yourself."

"So who _should_ I blame? You?" I asked without a hint of irony. "No, this is my hatchet to bury – you shouldn't have to do so on my behalf. I'm _sorry_ , Nya. I was being a belligerent idiot that night. Don't try and spin all of this onto you because you and I both know that if I had spoken up, if I had the guts to ask – no, _beg_ – you to stay, we would not be in this awkward position right now. And don't forget about the fact that I treated you so rudely back then that it embarrasses me to think about it. I'm sorry about everything, Nya."

Nya looked like she was about to say something but I quickly held up a hand. "Don't even try to defend my behavior. It was boorish and pathetic and you know it."

"I wasn't going to do that," Nya said to the contrary. "I was actually going to tell you to stop beating yourself up because it's very unbecoming of you. The way you talk about yourself…it makes me sad, Sam."

"I'm sorry for that too," I said automatically. My next words got caught on a lump in my throat and I stalled, momentarily speechless. Nya then crawled on her knees so that she was soon straddling me, holding my head to her chest as she made soothing noises. Her fingers gently wiped tears away from my face as my breath came in shuddering gasps. I had not even known that I was crying.

Nya sat down on my lap, hooking her arms around my neck. "We both made our choices, you idiot. I chose to leave as well, remember? I did so because I thought that I was making the right decision at the time, the way you thought it was right decision as well. In this case, we both happened to make the wrong choice. But…" she paused, unknowingly making me ache to hear her voice again, "…nothing has changed between the two of us. If you want things to be different, you can tell me."

"Nya…" I mouthed words for a second before my voice finally caught. "I…I want you." My hands began to stroke the quarian's back as I sat up a little straighter. "No, I _need_ you. For every single terrible day that we were apart, there was nary a moment when I was not thinking of you. I've been at my happiest whenever you were nearby and that's why I consider myself to be an idiot for not holding onto you more tightly." Filled with the urge, I leaned forward so that I could place my lips upon the neck of Nya's suit, on a spot that I knew to be thin and so close that I could feel the warmth of her blood and body on the other side. Nya hugged me tighter as I finished with the delicate kiss and made a whimpering noise of bliss.

" _That's_ why I'm an idiot, most of all," I continued to speak in my haze. "Because I know that what we have feels right and I almost pushed that away once. There is no one else that I would rather be with and I had been blind to that one critical fact at such an important moment that I could call myself something far worse than an idiot and I still wouldn't be satisfied. Nya, what I'm trying to say is that-,"

"I love you," Nya whispered happily as she leaned her vocabulator close to my ear.

"-I love you," I breathed in agreement as we clutched each other fiercely. I kissed Nya's shoulder and her arms squeezed me so tightly for if I had not been still wearing my combat vest, multiple bones would have been broken.

It was at this moment that any and all doubts in my mind were quashed completely. The absurdity of the situation no longer impacted me at all – having these strong feelings for someone outside of my species. It just felt natural that we were here now, her sitting atop me and hugging me so hard that she was close to cutting off my air supply. To be so close to someone who felt so passionately towards me was intoxicating. Her emotion was infectious – I found myself reminded once more why I fell in love with her in the first place: she saw a better person through the cheap façade that I had constructed for myself.

Nya's fingers parted my hair gently as she positioned her mask centimeters away from my face. If I squinted, I thought I could see the outline of her eyes watering slightly. Based on heavily she was breathing as well, she was just as happy and filled with love as I was right now. How I wanted to see her smile for real.

"Sam?" her soft voice questioned, piercing the silence.

"Yes?" I whispered into her neck, my lips still dragging across the rubbery surface, causing her to moan.

"Why?"

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

Nya's thumb gently stroked my cheek. "I remember what you said to me that night. That you deliberately pushed everyone away that you cared about because of what happened to your sister. You could have easily done the same to me, although you _did_ try. Why was I the one who slipped through the cracks?"

"You want the truth?" I asked with a pathetic smile, knowing that she certainly did not want anything less. "I just could not stand the sight of you being upset. Not after spending time with you made me realize that I naturally grew happier around you. You had mentioned your past to me before – losing your parents - and in some cases, it was worse than what I had to go through. Maybe it was the fact that we had an intimate understanding of the other right there and the fact that it did not seem fair for you to be sad when you've already lost so much." I looked down at the floor, biting my lip. "I seem selfish in comparison."

"But what could have possibly happened to your sister that would make you like this? Why would you ever have felt that no one could have made you feel happy?"

My torso slumped and I tilted my head backwards. Already I was feeling rather drained but I knew that if I did not open myself to Nya, especially right now, I would be nothing more than an unconscionable coward. It was time for the weight to finally be lifted and Nya could tell that the words were itching to be given form.

"Do you really want to know?" I asked hoarsely, already knowing the answer.

"I do, Sam," she answered, loyal as ever. "I _want_ to understand you, to know you. I _want_ to be with you and love you. I want to share your pain and understand why you hurt. That means that I _want_ to have the entire Sam McLeod before me. I don't want you to be the perfect man nor do I expect you to be, I just want you to be you."

All I could do was give a dry chuckle. Reality had once again distorted in Nya's presence. What I had sworn to lock away would now be laid bare, brought forward from her insistence. This was how I knew that she was right for me; even with reliving a terrible event, I did not want to disappoint her. She wanted my soul…and I wanted to give it to her.

And then it all poured out.

"Taylor and I were close when we were kids," I said hoarsely, my throat feeling dry and parched like I had not been drinking for days. "Inseparable. The best of friends. We both liked the same things and hung out with the same crowd, even if she was a couple years older than me. She was…kind, funny, charming, and…"

"…and you loved her," Nya finished for me.

"Of course," I nodded. "I felt nothing less for her."

"What happened to Taylor?"

"One night," I said after a moment's pause, "she didn't come home after seeing a movie with some of her friends. We thought she just went to a sleepover or something, but we never saw her the next day, or the day after that. After an entire day had passed and Taylor had still failed to return home, we contacted the authorities. The police organized search parties to find her but…I was the one who found her body in the mountains near my house. She had been strangled to death…and her body had been defiled afterward."

"Oh, Sam…" Nya gasped as she gave me a comforting hug.

"The person who did it was caught hours later," I continued grimly. "It had been her boyfriend, someone that I had also been friends with, actually. He…" I sniffled and rubbed at my nose. "He was quite enamored of Taylor but apparently was paranoid that she was going to dump him. No mental issues or anything like that, just extremely possessive. She _was_ going to dump him, as a matter of fact. Taylor confided to me days before she died that she was not interested in her boyfriend anymore and told me that she was going to break off their relationship. I thought he would take the news hard but I could never have guessed the savagery of his reaction. He…that miserable fuck…he _killed_ her, just because she wanted to move on from him and he wanted her all to himself."

Nya's fingers tightened around my shirt. "That bastard," she spat as her breathing quickened.

"No one knows exactly what happened between them when she was killed, but it gets even better," I said morosely. "When the police reported who the killer was, they jailed him in the city, which I knew to be relatively light security since it was a relatively quaint community – they accepted visitors around the clock. I woke up in the middle of the night one time and snuck into my father's office. I knew that was where he kept his gun. The cabinet was always unlocked so I just took it, after making sure that it was loaded."

"You…you didn't…" Nya shook her head, aghast. She was frightfully worried now, like her perception of me was currently hanging in the balance with this story.

I just lifted a hand off my leg a few inches in defeat. "You're right," I said. "I didn't."

"But…but you said-,"

"It turned out my parents were still awake at that time of night. They were mourning the loss of my sister and at night was the only time they could do it without me overhearing. I had not counted on this and tried to sneak past them, but my father saw and caught me. He…he had to restrain me as I fought to get out of the house. He knew then that I wanted to kill that son of a bitch that murdered my sister but he did not want to lose his last child in the process of avenging her. I can still remember him shouting, my mother crying in the background, and how I thrashed about as I tried to get away. It took several minutes for them to calm me down and at that point…it was done. I gave up."

Tapping my fingers on my thigh, I fell silent to allow Nya to get a word in, if she wanted to. She said nothing, merely awaiting to see if there was more to the story, so I continued. "The trial of the killer lasted for months. I only attended on the final day, when they threw the book at him. I wanted to see that fucker's face as they gave him a life sentence – never mind the fact that he was still a minor. But after that day, I found myself nervous about being that close to someone again, knowing just how much it hurts to lose them."

Nya and I were shoulder to shoulder by now and I consciously reached over and wrapped my arms around her middle. I leaned my head next to hers and she began to run her fingers through my hair again in an affectionate manner.

"And…your sister's boyfriend?" she asked. "Was he still alive by the time you…crossed over?"

I gave a rough laugh, my gut filled with dread. "No, he ended up angering some fellow inmates a few weeks after he was incarcerated. They stabbed him to death in the showers. Just goes to show that life occasionally has a sense of humor. I couldn't kill the man back when I wanted to, but he was already marked for death, it seemed."

Nya breathed a marked sigh of relief. "No kidding."

The next contemplative moments were rather alleviating for our psyches. Simply being alone, stuffed into an alcove of a doorway in the subway together with a war raging just a few feet above our heads, gave us an opportunity to treasure this moment. Being with Nya was an opportunity that was few and far between for me, something that was criminal for me not to indulge in whenever I wanted. I found it unfair that I had to constantly fight to get to where we were now but in the end, there was always the sense that the effort was well worth it in the end.

Maybe this time, I would not have the cowardice to let go.

"I never knew my father," Nya blurted out quietly, her voice echoing down the dark tunnels.

I did not respond but instead lifted my head, curious.

She seemed to sense my initial confusion and turned her head, her luminous eyes beaming in my direction. Inhuman, but very lovely. "It's only fair that you know the truth about my family now that you've told me your story."

"I didn't intend for this to be a quid pro quo," I said. "I mean, an exchange of information." The correction seemed necessary as I did not know if the Latin phrase would translate to Khelish easily. "If you don't want to say anything-,"

Nya shushed me with a finger to my lips. "You'll understand, Sam. You always understand me. Besides, it's only fair."

Concerned, I said nothing, but made a point to wilt my posture in case that Nya was harboring second thoughts. Secretly, I wanted to hear what Nya had to say but I knew that it would be impolite of me to press her for events in her past that she considered to be traumatic. If she was comfortable with this, then it was her prerogative to reveal facets of her life previously unknown to me. There was no hesitation or fear from what I could discern and she powered on after taking a deep breath, completely relaxed with talking to me.

"I was told that he was a researcher, always obsessed with tech," she said in an unflinching manner. "All I know is that he was very smart and loved my mother so much. There was nothing about their relationship that was out of the ordinary and they were very happy together."

Her fingers twitched in my grip and I tightened my hand to give her strength. "But…one day, there was an accident in the lab he was working. A small explosion…his suit was breached and he inhaled too much toxic chemicals. He was dead in minutes."

"Nya…" I whispered, already feeling a stab in my chest by imagining the loss of a parent.

The quarian took a ragged breath, determined to keep going. "It was…during the investigation did the Conclave discover…that he had been secretly conducting experiments towards constructing a new artificial intelligence. Apparently, my father wanted to create an alternative to the geth, to help our people become strong once more with the aid of new synthetic allies, but he did it in secret so that the admiralty would not place any restrictions on his work. The admirals of the fleet were horrified; officially they could not condone such research, not after it had been made public. There was only thing they could do to send a message to the fleet that conducting unauthorized experiments on illegal technology was prohibited." Her head drooped a few inches. "They chose to exile my mother, because she had known of the nature of his research the entire time he had been conducting his experiments."

Now, the concept of exiling someone was something that still sounded foreign and barbaric to me. There had been a few countries that still utilized the practice back when I lived on Earth, but I never had the chance to experience it firsthand. The idea that someone could be banished from their land, never to return, was something that just seemed to cruel, so sad, that it made me angry to think about.

"She was his wife!" I hissed. "Your mother really loved your father so shouldn't the admirals have known that she would never have betrayed his secret? What else would they have expected?"

"It didn't matter to them," Nya said simply as she turned to face me. "In their eyes, she was guilty by association. Her husband was dead, but they needed to punish someone still alive to get their point across. My father's name was stricken from the rolls of every ship he had served on, and my mother was given a small shuttle, barred from ever seeing the fleet again – and pregnant with me."

My mouth pursed, about to utter a horrified curse. "They knowingly sent a _pregnant_ woman away?"

"They _didn't_ know. Nor did my mother, for that matter. It was only after a few more weeks had passed did my mother realize the sad truth. By then, she had reached a small quarian colony on a lonely moon a few systems away, populated by those who had also been exiled from the fleet or had simply chosen never to return. It was on that moon that I was born."

Drawing her knees inward, I let Nya lean a little bit more onto me. I figured that she could use the support. "What was she like?" I asked. "Your mother."

"I…" Nya faltered. "It's hard to remember. All I can recall is…a tall woman in a blue suit, always looking out for me. I remember her touch on my skin…her laugh as we played…but that's it. I never even saw her face under her helmet. I…don't have anything to remember her by."

"What happened to her?"

"She became sick," Nya croaked out. I suspected she was trying to hold back tears at this point. "From a bad suit seal…or a tear…I don't know. I was five at the time. I know now that my mother realized that she could no longer take care of me at that point, so she arranged for me to be spirited away from the fleet before she succumbed to illness, since I was a child and guiltless to my parents' crime. I was put on a trawler – the last thing I remember of my mother is her waving goodbye on the platform, trying to hold back terrible coughs. I made it to the flotilla days later while…my mother died on that moon."

The knot around my chest loosened. I figured that it was only fitting that I throw an arm around Nya to give her a reassuring squeeze. I kissed the side of her helmet as a spur-of-the-moment decision and she choked out a sob, now starting to tremble.

I wanted to ask Nya why her mother would even think to send her to the fleet, the very monsters who exiled her family in the first place. I wanted to know how she could still have loyalty to those whimpering cowards that do nothing but react overzealously at the first sign of trouble. But because Nya was not in a good way, I decided not to press her right now. The answer could be inferred from the evidence alone.

I just had to think in quarian terms. For a citizen used to living in the fleet their whole lives, to be exiled from that lifeline is akin to a death sentence. An exile loses out on their career, their home, and other amenities that a cruel galaxy would be unwilling to offer anywhere else. Nya's mother did not want her daughter to inherit that life, a life that would do nothing but test her every single day. She wanted Nya to have the same opportunities as a normal quarian, even if that meant carrying a stigma for the rest of her life. Knowing that she was dying, her mother knew that she could not care for Nya any longer and thus she had no choice – she would have to spirit her only daughter to the people that pushed her out in the first place. It was the only way she would survive.

That, in turn, had instilled some kind of twisted loyalty in Nya. I noted that she never seemed passionate about her duties to the fleet, but merely carried them out to the bare minimum. It did not matter if she excelled at her assignments, no one deliberately took notice of her accomplishments so she had adopted an ambivalence toward her own kind. Her shipmates looked down on her, simply for carrying a tarnished name and her childhood had been filled with bullies and taunts. That, combined with her experience living with her mother, had made Nya initially think that she was better off at being self-sufficient despite the mantra of the quarians emphasizing the needs of the community over the needs of the self. Over time, her rebellious instincts had been dulled from the constant repetition of those edicts and thus Nya was slightly indoctrinated into believing that being with her people was the only way that she could hope to be anyone of remote importance. For the rest of her life, though, she was adamant that there would be no one else that would look out for her, that would care for her, that she had practically resigned herself to the mold that the fleet had placed onto her.

That flimsy mold, however, had shattered the moment that I had unintentionally stumbled into her life, I realized. It had finally been proven to her that there was someone out there that was willing to empathize with her, and more so: to _love_ her. And the rest, they say, is history.

"I guess…" I finally rasped as I wiped my damp eyes. "…to answer your question about why you were the one, it simply hurt too much for me to be separated from you. I could either spend the rest of my life worrying about what could happen but I decided that I would rather _try_ to be happy with you, rather than only imagine me being happy with you."

Our hands, interlocked once more, never ceased in their tight grip as we conversed. Nya's free hand came up and planted itself over my cheek soothingly. The sensation sent reverberations of relief flooding through my body. It was incredible and I sighed longingly as the quarian's touch gently reassured me. No one had ever touched me with such care before and before I could stop them, my tears began to flow again. I ducked my head, embarrassed, but Nya lifted my chin up, not wanting me to hide when I was most vulnerable.

She hugged me, not a light and friendly hug of greeting, but one full of passion and desire. I could feel her lithe and muscular body through the suit, her warmth sending energy into me. Her strong arms encircled me and I almost began sobbing openly as she caught me from my mental freefall. Nya, my savior. How the tables had turned.

"This is why I care so much for you," Nya whispered into my ear. "Because you are an inherently good person who understands where I'm coming from. You have never judged me and have been the most sincere person I've ever met in my life. You have been through so much that you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy. And…and if you believe that I am that person…I…I would like to be with you too, because you make _me_ happy."

"Nya," I mumbled into her shoulder, grateful at the kindness of this woman, "there is nothing else in this galaxy that I want more."

"I'm glad," the quarian said softly, overjoyed. "Thank you, Sam…I'm so glad."

Barely able to suppress my grin, I tenderly held Nya's head as our adoration for the other spiked. "Does this mean…that you and I are…?"

"Yes!" Nya gave a laugh behind tears of joy. "Yes, yes, yes!" She was literally jittering up and down as we sat there, now so excited that she was very close to babbling her words. Her reaction to this, the confirmation that we were ready to take that extra step together, was so sweet and so adorable that I just felt immense relief. All that pain and endless waiting, it had all finally come to fruition.

I could finally relax. Funny, I could easily imagine Taylor standing over my shoulder, giving me a nod of approval. Her baby brother had finally settled down. To her eternal eyes, it was about damn time.

"God, I love you so much," I whispered, affection saturating my voice, turning it husky. "I feel that I haven't said that enough yet."

"So say it again," Nya said sultrily. Her fingers began to playfully do a walk up my chest. "Please?"

"I love you," I said with all the sincerity I could muster.

"And I love you," Nya reciprocated, almost unwilling to believe that she was holding someone who effused adoration and kindness to her with no ulterior motive behind the words. I'm pretty sure that we both hit the jackpot here.

Happiness in the arms of a quarian. If this were 2015, I would most likely be disowned for choosing her over someone from my own species. Life, however, is just one big bag of crazy moments. If my feelings for another person transcended that specific boundary, then who am I to argue with how I truly feel? It was a timely argument for someone placed into the completely wrong generation.

Her fingers reached my neck, softly tickling the tender flesh there, I got goosebumps running up my spine. Nya giggled at my reaction and I responded by gently tickling her side, both of us stopping before we would erupt into an all-out tickle fight. We were panting at this point, striving to control our desire for the other, but the need was getting to be overwhelming.

"We don't have much time left, do we?" Nya asked, her hands coming around to trace my features.

"I'm afraid not," I said sadly, gripping Nya's hips more tightly from thinking that this could be the last night that we spend alive together. I took a quick glance at my chronometer and tried to remember the upcoming sequence of events. "We have a little over three hours, if I'm reading this correctly. Then…the final battle begins."

"Three hours?" Nya perked up. "No, that's perfect! That's good for what we need!" She leaped off of me and hopped down from the island. Blinking, I followed her down onto the tracks, wondering exactly what she had in mind.

"Nya? What-,"

Nya whirled around, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Three hours," she repeated. "It's more than enough time for us to get ready. There's a place on the level below that I know will be perfect – we can stay there until it's time for us to leave."

"Woah, Nya!" I waved my hands frantically. "Slow down, you've lost me. What is it exactly that you want to do?"

"Sam," Nya said insistently, "there's no guarantee that we're going to make it out of this alive, from what you've been telling me. If that's the case, then I want to make sure that this final night is special for the both of us, that we can at least die happy, Ancestors forbid."

All of the moisture in my mouth vanished again, turning it into a desert. Even my tongue was dry, rendering it useless when I rubbed it against the roof of my mouth to wet it.

"Just tell me what you want to do," I breathed, eyes focused, making sure that I enunciated each of my words so that nothing got lost in translation.

The quarian just tilted her head, no mischief in her eyes or playful expression otherwise hidden by her visor. Just a pure and honest expression, one borne out of confidence and careful thought. For her, this decision was definitely not made lightly.

"I want to show you my face."

* * *

 **A/N: And about damn time, I'd say!**

 **To be honest, I'm surprised I got the chapter out this quickly. Between work and going to SVCC, I thought I wouldn't have this finished until Wednesday. Since I have flexible hours, I have enough time to work on the story a little bit after work on weekdays, so I can safely declare that there will not be any month-long delays between the rest of the chapters for _The Quantum Error_ if I can help it. Hooray for that.**

 **Which brings me onto my next point. I'll most likely have the next chapter done rather quickly, seeing how it's already mostly finished. I will upload it a week after today. Or if you wish, I'll upload it whenever I get done with it, presumably before the end of the week as compensation for this chapter's delay...but if you want the chapter early, you're going to have to let me know somewhere in your review if you're going to post one, or in a PM. The tradeoff is that if people elect for an early upload, then there will be a greater waiting period between that chapter and the next...and we know how patient people can be on this site.**

 **Food for thought. I leave the matter entirely in your hands.**


	21. Chapter 21: Spur - Lust II

**A/N: As promised, an early chapter. Of course, I would be loath not to mention that this chapter once again is a prime example for why I rated this story M in the first place. Then again, the nature of the upcoming content should have been obvious if you read the last chapter.**

 **Oh well. Too late for any regrets now. Here it is!**

* * *

Oh, thank god…

Despite the chilling temperature of the water, the feeling of the refreshing liquid running down my face was rather heavenly. I gargled the filtered fluids, letting it soak into all my pores, imagining that the layer of grime that had accumulated on me was rushing down the drain in sheets. After all, it had been a few days since I had taken a shower and had been rather rank as of late. There was an all-in-one shampoo/soap combo available, so I made sure to liberally apply that until a thick and foamy film coated me.

Best shower ever.

All of my fierce scrubbing and washing managed to be completed within the three minute time limit. I spent the last few seconds staring up at the flimsy shower head when the torrent stemmed to a dribble, the timer having immobilized the flow. I used the next minute to air-dry for a bit while I trimmed my beard with a razor, cropping it down so that it did not look all wild and straggly. Now, after I had washed my face to rid myself of the clippings, it looked neat and proper, good enough for a day at the office. I grabbed at the towel I had hanging to the side and after dabbing at my soaked beard, pulled it around my waist and exited the portable shower for the next person to use.

A queue had begun to form by now, a file of barely dressed civilians or soldiers of multiple races waiting to utilize one of the makeshift tents that could remotely be called showers. All of the tents were connected to a portable reservoir and it was from here that the water was rationed out in minute increments through makeshift piping that tangled overhead. My pistol and bag were in the same place I left them in the room and I quickly pulled on a fresh shirt and pants. Ah, much better than wearing a combat vest that chafes your shoulders all the damn time. I shouldered my pack once I brushed my damp hair flat and proceeded out of what used to be a terminal of the London Underground and down the stairs towards one of the ancient stations.

I had to climb down onto the train tracks and follow the lit path until I stumbled upon a cavernous room through a hole in one of the tunnels. White translucent tents, barely as tall as me, sat erect in rows of twenty, their backs to one another as portable generators hummed loudly. There looked to be tubes running from the sides of the tents that connected into a device powered by the generators. Odd sort of sight. Hard to tell what those devices were at a glance. Perhaps Nya could elaborate more on that.

Coincidentally, Nya sat on a stone bench just to my right and rose as I approached. There were no words shared between us as we met, just a simple hug that lasted for barely five seconds. But when Nya pulled away, she seemed to be glowing.

"It's just this way," she indicated as she took me by the hand. Completely at her whim, I surrendered myself to her grip. Nya led me to a tent at the far corner and used her omni-tool to allow us passage inside.

The tent was an odd contraption. It was a stiff skeleton surrounded by a translucent tarp-like material. As soon as we entered, I was reminded of being inside a house undergoing fumigation. Another oddity was that there appeared to be some sort of airlock that separated the main sleeping area from the outside world. The flaps sealed shut behind me and an overhead vent connected to a tube began to pump in disinfectants (I only knew what it was when I could feel my nose burning). I coughed and my ears popped. Apparently this airlock was changing the atmosphere to make it more sterile, decontaminating it and facilitating suit-removals if need be. I was sure that the technique was not perfect, but it would have to be good enough for our purposes.

The inner flap opened and Nya and I ducked our heads and proceeded inside. The interior of the tent barely had enough room for the both of us, and with my things strapped to my back I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. However, we were not completely crammed in, and the removal of my pack helped lessen the uncomfortable sensations.

As the inner seal pushed itself shut, I could hear a hiss emanate from the middle crack. I pushed against the taut material with a finger. "Never knew the quarians had equipment such as this. Is this airtight?" I asked.

"Soundproof too," Nya said mischievously before she tilted her head. "And actually, we didn't invent them. They were donated to us from the salarians a couple months ago, knowing that we would need portable centers to treat any wounded soldiers in the field. Is…do you think this is good enough?"

Hell, _of course_ this was good enough! This woman is fussing over appearances and I know that we might be dead in the course of a few hours. As much as I wanted to make a quip, I bit my tongue sharply. Instead, I eyed only the paltry blanket that lay on the floor, ragged and torn. Don't tell me that _that_ was supposed to be her bed? Surely she could not be serious about _that?_

"It's perfect," I said instead as I reached towards my backpack. "But, I think that I can improve it a little bit."

"How so?" Nya asked.

"Just watch."

I unhooked my sleeping back from the top of my pack after kicking off my shoes and socks, and rolled it out with a flourish. It was almost as long as the tent and although not as thick as the mattress of a bed it was certainly more comfortable than lying on just a thin blanket. I also removed my inflatable pillow and tucked it at the head of the bag after puffing into the slot a few times. Now the tent looked much more inviting and a bit less homely. It would also provide protection from lying on a hard surface and getting a bad back as a result.

I also grabbed two towels out of an outer pocket and set those aside for later. Many people have no idea how handy towels could be in certain situations. From the same pocket, I took out two medicine canisters; one containing an antihistamine, another of epinephrine, two things that the duty officer at the FOB happened to have on hand. From what I had heard, this stuff would be a godsend for my intended purposes.

Nya spotted the canisters as well as the drab-colored pills that I tipped out of their containers. "What are those?" she asked.

"Allergy medications," I said as I popped the pills in dry. It was a little hard to swallow without any water and I could feel two lumps travel down my gullet rather painfully. "Probably more than I need, but I'm not taking any chances. These will help negate any side effects that come about from me…err, _ingesting_ anything."

"Probably a good idea," Nya nodded. "I took a triple dose of antibiotics beforehand as my solution. However, I heard about this drug called Reversal and that it might be better for something like this? I mean, you deal in this sort of thing. What is it?"

"Oh, that. Reversal is a gastrointestinal immunosuppressant. Basically, it blocks the white blood cells in the body from attacking any reverse-chiral substances that are ingested, saving the person from debilitating cramps. I actually saw that they were offering some at the FOB, but I decided to stick with the medication instead."

"And why not the Reversal?"

"Because what the label does not tell you is that you have to purge your system after consuming Reversal otherwise your digestive system is just going to be screwed up. And I don't know about you, but I would prefer not to throw up if I can help it."

"Oh. Ew." Nya's eyes squinted in disgust. "No, I did not know that. In any case, I've exhausted all my options to make this manageable for me. Are you sure that you are going to be fine – I mean your immune system as well?"

"Honestly, I don't really care all that much," I shrugged as I shoved the packet back into my backpack and placed it near the tent entrance. "I can't die from doing this, so between the both of us, I'm the last person that I'm worried about. I think that exercising caution in your case would be best. All you should have to worry about is…well, residual germ contact from me. Hopefully that will be all you are going to be exposed to. I made sure to shower as best as I could, brushed my teeth and everything, and did a complete disinfect."

I took a moment to collect my thoughts so that I could keep on describing how cautious I was in my planning. But before I could even get start on voicing the bulk of my worries, Nya shushed me by placing a gloved hand to my mouth. "I'm going to be fine," she gave a light laugh at my sudden speechlessness. "You don't need to worry about me so much."

Nya removed her hand but I quickly grasped it and looked her in the eye. "Nyareth," I said slowly, making sure to use her full name so that she would know how serious I am, "I'm not the one who could potentially _die_ from doing this. I can't help _but_ worry for you."

Nya sat still for a moment before she gently patted the back of my hand. Her eyelids became slits in what I could only infer was because she was smiling widely. The icicle in my chest began to melt, allowing me to breathe a little easier.

Very carefully, our hands began to cautiously explore the other. Nya's fingers traced down my neck to my shoulders while mine slid up her strong thighs, rested on her prominent hips for a moment, before they halted over her breasts. Nya sighed as I gently fondled her, my own hesitation beat down as a memory of me, burrowing my hand in between Nya's legs while she loudly moaned with pleasure, came to mind. I leaned forward and gently kissed the top of her chest, now able to hear the soft noises of Nya's suit stretching as it conformed to the movements of her body.

While we were doing that, Nya scooted forward so that she was now sitting on my lap, her legs wrapping around me in a perfect fit. Our chests were barely touching and I could see how heavy that Nya was breathing as evidenced by the rapid rise and fall of her stomach. I detected a little tremor that ran through her. She was nervous.

Softly stroking her neck, I then used my fingers to push Nya's hood back, off her helmet. She looked oddly vulnerable without it covering the black metal and the wires that pumped in sterile air that connected to the back. My face did not change expression but I was secretly fascinated with seeing even this part of Nya that had been previously invisible to me. I was sure that my excitement was distinctly palpable for I was getting jitters throughout my body as, _yes_ , this really was happening.

"Just take your time," I spoke as I ran a hand over her vocabulator. "I don't want you to be too nervous."

"That…" Nya's shaky laugh betrayed her, "…is an impossibility, I'm afraid."

"If you need more time-,"

"-We'd be here all night," she interrupted with a frustrated grunt. "Screw it, I've waited long enough anyway."

A bit of me wanted to protest that such a gesture was not necessary and there were less deadly ways to show care to another, but I could not hold the woman back from what she had clearly wanted to do for some time which, in some selfish manner, was also what I wanted. I sat centimeters across from her, enraptured, as her dexterous fingers depressed the seals on her blood-red visor and slowly pulled it away, revealing what had to be one of the most stunning faces I have ever seen in my life.

My mental picture of Nya had gradually changed over the years as I had come to know the woman more, imagining her features in all of the combinations that I thought possible, but all of them now were drastically inferior to the reality of what was in front of me right now. The first thing that I noticed about the timid face that peeked out at me was the color of Nya's skin. It was a light, cool gray, like nothing I had ever seen before. The milky lighting that passed through the tent gave her skin a bluish hue, softly washing over her cheeks. Her lips were of the same color, blending into the rest of her skin. A cute nose jutted out from a thin face, flaring in response to the cold air in the tent. Two beautiful, pure white eyes shone through the dimness, peering into my soul – their luminescence only enhanced her alienness, yet I thought that it was breathtaking. A band of freckles dotted her face underneath her eyes and two black marks like calligraphy strokes rose up from Nya's eyebrows to her scalp, dimly reminding me of my tattoos.

On her left cheek, the one currently hidden in shadow, there was a thin, whitish mark there that seemed to be slightly raised. It was a scar, I realized, that marred her otherwise unblemished skin. I found myself pondering about that scar for a bit longer than I intended, wanting to know how she got it and where it came from.

She was crying, as evident from the damp trails that ran down her face. For what, I had no idea. Was it because she was afraid that I would find her unattractive? I knew that her face was going to appear humanoid and that there were no mandibles or anything particularly displeasing to the eyes. Truthfully, after having known her with a visor on for most of the time, I don't think that I would have cared either way of how she looked. Her expression at the moment was breaking my heart though, for it had to be the rawest form of unease and fright that I had ever seen on a person before.

Very gently, I raised my hands and cupped Nya's face. She let out a gasp as my fingertips brushed her skin. That must have been the first actual physical contact she had ever had with someone in her life. She was allowing me to do this, to be this close to her while everyone else could not! I don't think that I could imagine how her ultra-sensitive skin could be responding to such stimuli as us humans, in comparison, had nerves dulled through experience. Simply put, we took the sensation of touch for granted.

I brushed away Nya's tears with my thumbs and gave her a warm smile, slowly gaining back the power of speech after being transfixed from her natural beauty.

"Hello Nya," I whispered as I positioned my face closer to hers.

"H-Hello…Sam," Nya stammered out, but managed a shaky smile after giving out what seemed to be a combination of a sob and a laugh. God, I could finally see her smile! She possessed a perfect row of blinding white teeth that hinted at ancient predatory origins. She gestured to her face with a trembling hand. "I…I hope…I don't seem…hideous to you."

The incredulity of that statement nearly caused me to recoil in surprise. Hideous? _Her?_ Good lord, this woman's self-esteem was crumbling by the second yet she apparently had no inkling of how she really looked. Words could not form an appropriate counter, so I did what could only be described as the most natural course of action to me through my ever-increasing tunnel vision. I closed the last few inches and kissed her.

Ah. Finally.

There was an initial jump from Nya once our lips pressed together, but she very rapidly settled in to the pleasant sensation. She whimpered and I groaned as we fell into a clumsy rhythm, each one of us not knowing the magnitude of how badly we wanted this. I could feel our hands coming together, clenching the other's fingers while we sat and kissed passionately, our arms wrapping around the other and drawing us close. I inhaled, bringing Nya's exotic scent to my nostrils. It had a unique musk, one that was definitely not human – yet still female - but it awakened something in me that had long laid dormant. Our kisses ended with us sucking on the other's lips (Nya fumbled a bit at first but quickly got the hang of it), gently pulling away only to come back for more after a quick breather. Christ, she was just so _soft_.

I did not want to escalate things at a fast pace, but Nya apparently had other plans. In the middle of a kiss, I could feel her tongue began to poke from her lips and stop at my mouth, unsure of what to do. With a sudden revelation, I too opened my mouth and met her tongue with my own at the middle. Her hands practically flew as they wrapped around my back and we began to rock back and forth as we made out. The feeling of our tongues sliding over each other was quite arousing, as was her intoxicating taste. It was a very erotic moment with this woman – an _alien_ , mind you - whose face I only saw for the first time just a few minutes ago, yet here I was, hungrily kissing her like I had her features engrained in my head for years.

Nya's hands ceased wrapping around my torso and I noticed, while cracking my eye open in the middle of one of our myriad kisses, that she was working on unhooking her hood. That probably would not have alarmed me, but it was the fact that she started to uncouple the clasps attaching her hood to the rest of her suit that did. My blood pressure spiked and I furiously broke the kiss in panic.

"Nya!" I exclaimed. "What- What are you doing?"

The quarian looked positively flummoxed at my reaction. "Um…taking my suit off?" she said matter-of-factly.

If I had not been so worried, that comment might have actually produced an erotic reaction in me. I had most assuredly not been expecting this.

"I…I…" Lost for words, how convenient.

Nya raised an eyebrow, the first time that I could actually witness her face giving shape to her words. "What, did you think that I would be only satisfied with _kissing?_ "

"Well…I had no idea that you wanted to go _that_ far."

"I want to go all the way," Nya confirmed confidently. She stroked my cheek once before she gave my lips a light peck. "That is, only if you want the same."

This changed my plans for the night. My brain was scrambling for what to do, helpless in the wake of a pretty woman desperate to shed her clothes right in front of me. Oh dear, what a problem that I'm facing right now.

"Nya, you know that I would do anything to make you feel comfortable. But…are you sure that you want to do this? I mean, you could get even more sick-,"

"I can't get any sicker, you idiot," Nya sighed as she gave a sympathetic chuckle. She gestured to her face. "You see this? No visor in the way. It's not like if I went back underneath it that I would somehow have no reaction. It's too late, I'm out. And since I'm out I might as well find out what I've been missing for all these years. That means that I want to show how much I love you, both in mind…and in body."

Her kisses unexpectedly turned hard, our mouths mashing against each other. That clever woman, using my own blunt male hormones against me. I was now swimming in dopamine, completely subjugated to Nya's whim: which was to continue with the shedding of clothes. Her confidence steamrolled over my misgivings, leaving me free to enjoy this moment as much as she was already.

At some point throughout our carnal exchange, I felt Nya's hands reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it upward. I held my arms up and helped with the removal of the garment, and Nya started to begin working on removing her suit after that was done. Her hood finally flopped to the ground as it was quickly detached, crumpling in a heap. Nya's eyes traced my broad chest, focusing on the circular tattoo that was imprinted over my heart and the ones that encircled my arms, like she was trying to decipher their meanings. Her gray face was flushed red from the increased blood flow and she gave me a tiny smile as I became privy to another revelation for the night as she lifted the metal helmet off her head.

"Wow," I could only say as my hand ran over Nya's scalp, brushing the strands of black hair between my fingers. It was thin from having been contained inside a helmet for Nya's entire life, parting easily to my touch. It was also very short in length, barely a few inches longer than my own, shaped to her skull. Definitely shorter than what most female humans chose. The delicate fibers were tousled, unkempt, and threatened to curl in a few places. It gave Nya a very genuine quality that I found had been lacking in others. If such a thing could be possible, I could only find myself becoming more attracted to her. And she had thought, for a moment, that I would _not_ like how she looked. Oh, how things could not be further from the truth.

I blew air from my nose as I now traced one of the black lines on Nya's skin with my index finger, following them up her forehead. I wondered how her people could have possibly come up with the idea that completely containing themselves in these suits was the right idea. I mean, Nya was a very attractive woman and for such a person of her intelligence to be filled with such self-doubt…that was not healthy! I found myself getting angry and I quickly cooled, realizing the inappropriate timing of getting incensed at the moment.

"You okay?" Nya asked as she cracked an eye open.

"Could not be better," I answered honestly, warmly smiling. "What about you?"

"Me? I am more than okay. I'm with you…and I'm _happy_. For the first time in…I don't know how long, I'm happy."

"I just want you to _always_ be happy, Nya. You deserve it." Finished tracing the lines on Nya's forehead, I gingerly placed my full palm upon Nya's warm cheek. The quarian gasped as my hand touched her face, my weathered palm upon her soft skin. "How does that feel?" I asked, honestly intrigued.

"Like…like…" Nya struggled to find the words. "It feels like…I'm being burned…but it's not hurting. It tingles…where you touch me. I can feel the grooves on your fingers…the roughness of your calluses. It's everything all at once. It's… _amazing_." Nya gave a sigh of longing and closed her eyes momentarily before she opened them, a new hunger festering deep within her. "Now, please, no more stalling. I can't wait any longer. I want you _right now._ "

She gave me a light shove onto the sleeping bag but I exaggerated my fall so that it looked like she pushed me hard. I laughed, turned on from her forcefulness. While I was working to get my belt and pants off, Nya had activated a control in her enviro-suit, causing it to undergo some kind of transformation. Where it had been taut and snug around her body just previously, it now hung loosely, all baggy. Apparently there was some kind of weave embedded in the material of those suits that stiffened when exposed to an electric current. Now that the suit was significantly less tight, Nya was able to slip her upper torso out easily after she had finished unhooking her straps and shedding the fabric that accented her without having to overly exert herself.

By this time, I had gotten all my clothes off and eagerly awaited for Nya to be finished. Nya's gaze slipped completely from tending to her enviro-suit to my lower torso, which happened to be displaying just how excited I was. I almost cracked up laughing as her expression totally blanked when she took in the sight of me. Her cheeks reddened something fierce and a low noise came from the back of her throat in response, a soft moan of need. It was cute watching her face change expressions on a dime. Since she had been covered by a visor her whole life, she had not learned the social cues of hiding one's expression and as a result, every emotion she was feeling was advertised on her face so blatantly that she had no hope in hell of hiding her feelings from me this way. As such, I could tell straight away that Nya was on edge, already anticipating our joining together. I knew that I had to calm her down so that she would not overly excite herself though, otherwise she would become fatigued very quickly.

I scooted forward and began to tug at her boots while Nya's fumbling fingers worked at her waist. I helped to slip her feet out and slowly pulled the loose suit from the quarian, her breathing coming in deep pants at this point. She kicked her legs and the enviro-suit was free, the last covering shed. Now that everything was set aside, I took a deep breath and looked at her, linking our gazes. We were all exposed in this tent now; we had nothing to hide in our nakedness. Her hands briefly covered her sex and her breasts initially out of shyness, but she mustered the nerve to pull them away, allowing me to see her fully.

I was not at all surprised by her contours, as her enviro-suit fit so snugly around her body that it left little for my imagination to make of it. She was thinner, much thinner than an average human. I could count her ribs based on the soft indentions that wrapped around her chest. Freckles dotted her shoulders and all down the sides of her body. Her thighs were muscular and strong. Her limber fingers and toes each had nails upon them, not at all dissimilar from a human's. Hard muscle in her abdomen looked silky in the light, possessing the same black lines that had been present upon her head in a "V" formation. Her breasts were beautiful; a bit smaller than what humans had to offer on average, but perfectly proportionate to her chest. All in all, everything was exactly how I pictured in my head: not just a wonderful person, but a wonderful soul trapped inside, yearning to be free even for a moment.

Upon closer inspection, I could spot a few circular metal ports upon her shoulder, as well as indented grooves that ran up her forearms. _Implants_ , I realized. There were also round markings around her wrists and ankles, odd ink-like shapes that were comprised of ninety-degree angles and dots to form a bracelet-like shape. They gave Nya an exotic edge, I thought; something that managed to indicate to me that, despite our obvious similarities, she was not at all human. But I was not going to let that tidbit bother me in the slightest, for nothing I saw put me off from this woman in any way.

Nya was still lying on her back, also taking her time in examining the multiple tattoos that adorned my skin once more, before I could not take it any longer and crawled over to her. My hand ran over her prominent hip bone, cupped perfectly on her waist, before it moved on upward. I positioned myself on top of her and lowered my body down so that our chests were touching and proceeded to engage her in another series of kissing. Nya grabbed my face, determined to hold me down while she attempted to stifle her moans from the delicious friction that was starting to occur between our warm bodies. Her nipples brushed against my chest, relentlessly teasing me, and I gave a low groan while I continued to explore her mouth with my tongue.

I really did not think that I needed to vocalize just how beautiful Nya was to me. She was not at all embarrassed by her appearance and she had to know that I thought she looked lovely with how I was reacting to her form. After all, if I was repulsed, I probably would not have been so willing to join her atop the sleeping bag, rolling around naked while we passionately kissed. That seemed to get the point across, thankfully.

Before I could lose myself in another round of making out, I rolled to the side slightly so that my hand could be free to move. I gingerly slid my fingers down Nya's flat and lovely stomach, pausing there momentarily so that I could tickle her gently. She lightly slapped my hand and murmured, " _Ticklish…you bosh'tet…_ " into my mouth, eliciting a chuckle from my end. Gripped by an unshakable urge to please Nya, I then sent my hand on its merry way to the junction between her thighs, the quarian helping to guide me with her own hand. There was no question that she wanted this to happen, but I looked at her determinedly all the same.

"If you want this to stop, tell me," I whispered into her ear. "If you don't want to continue, just say so."

Her moistened eyes widened. "Back off after we've come this far? Not a chance, Sam. If I can't do this with you, then I can't do it with anyone."

"You see," I sighed in exasperation, "that kind of attitude makes me feel like I'm pressuring you into doing this. I don't want that. I want all of this to be entirely for you and if you feel uncomfortable at any time, let me know."

The quarian lifted her chin, defiant. "That will never happen. I don't want to stop, especially at this moment."

"Then what _do_ you want, Nya? Tell me."

Nya gave a light nip at my jaw before she ran her tongue over my lips. "I…want… _everything_ ," she breathed before we locked mouths again. There goes my train of thought for the next few minutes. My god, this was heavenly…

I quickly remembered what my original intention was before I lost track of time and we stopped kissing as soon as my fingers rubbed against Nya's outer lips, caressing them gently before I slowly began to prod her entrance, causing her to squeak suddenly. I waited for her body to give me a sign of admission and it was granted when her pelvis shifted into my hand, seeking attention. I then granted her request with little fanfare.

Her body instantaneously clenched around my fingers as they entered. Nya was very wet, yet her muscles were so taut that they were making intrusion particularly difficult. Quickly, my two fingers became slippery over one another, yet I dared not proceed any further than necessary. Already Nya was grunting and moaning into my neck, her nails digging into the skin of my back, either from pain, pleasure, or both. The purpose of doing this was twofold. I was giving Nya what she wanted by doing this, yes, but this was also a way to gauge how painful it might be for her when we would reach our culmination for the night. Relaxing Nya's muscles in this matter would make my entry easier, but it would not completely mitigate her discomfort. I just wondered if it would still be too much when the time came. Hell, I didn't even want to think about hurting her that badly.

Banishing those thoughts from my mind for now, I made cooing noises to calm Nya down, unsure if she was in pain or not. I at least hoped that she knew how much care I was taking with her in her delirium. Still inside her, I bent my fingers in a "come here" formation and gently began to rub at the roof of her womanhood, finding a little nub nestled in a fleshy corner there. As soon as I brushed it, Nya jerked in my arms and mewled, such a sweet sound. At the same time, my thumb started to rub at the outside of her womanhood, simultaneously pleasuring her from two places at once. Rejuvenated, now knowing that I was giving her a taste of the untold pleasure previously locked away from her, I began to focus all my efforts at those two places, using my fingers to milk every last ounce of ecstasy out of her.

We had ceased kissing at this point, as it might have been too painful for her raw nerves to focus on anything else other than my hand at the moment. All she could do was cling onto me, helpless as her torso continued to twitch without any form of rational thought. It felt almost cruel to me that I had taken this wonderful woman out of her cage only to exhibit her to the most intense sensations she could ever realize within a half hour. But Nya refused to cease in her exploration and softly urged me on with her tiny yips of satisfaction. Still unwilling to refuse her, I continued.

Nya came just seconds later with a long cry, her orgasm spilling onto my fingers. Slick with her arousal, my hand remained at her womanhood while she calmed down, withdrawing only when her breathing had slowed to a ragged pace and her body had unclenched.

We lay side-by-side for a few minutes, each one of us wanting to take things further, but too comfortable to have the desire to move. My fingers were delicately brushing the back of Nya's neck but she had other plans, apparently. Recovered from her orgasm, without warning, Nya suddenly gripped my groin and began to move her hand up and down.

I jerked as I felt Nya's dry hand on me. This had been completely unexpected. I was expecting that I was going to be doing all of the giving tonight, but Nya had not known that. She looked at me in concern for a moment but I did not say anything to dissuade her, so she kept up her slow rhythm.

"You've…ah…" I grinned tightly while Nya continued, "…you seem to know how to do this very well."

Nya merely gave me a kiss from her soft lips. "You think that you're the only species that had access to the extranet? I learned a lot from some of those videos."

"No…ah…no doubt," I conceded as Nya still masturbated me.

"Trust me. My teenage years were very hormonally charged. You should have seen me the day I installed my first nerve-stim pack."

"If you're…oh man…if you're telling me that you were somehow hornier than a human teenager alone with a swimsuit magazine, I hope you'll forgive me if I'm harboring some doubts."

"Doubts, eh? Well, watch and learn."

Nya's pace then escalated as she shot me a wicked smile. That damn woman, she certainly knew what she was doing. Her hand took several deep strokes, stimulating every single nerve that I had down there. I closed my eyes in bliss for what seemed like a single, solitary second before they shot open. Something was occurring in my body and it was much too soon for that to happen.

"Jesus…" I muttered but quickly panicked. "Jesus Christ, Nya. Stop!"

Nya took her hand away as though she had been burned. I had to utilize all of my torso muscles to keep from going too quickly, my face screwing up while my body clenched as tight as a drum. I probably looked like I was either being stabbed or was in the middle of some serious constipation. The sensation slowly passed and I exhaled a thick gasp, flopping back down onto the sleeping bag, my chest now coated with sweat.

Meanwhile, Nya's face hung agape. "Oh wow," she murmured. "I didn't think I was _that_ good."

"What did you expect?" I coughed somewhat sarcastically. "How else was I going to react to a beautiful woman jerking me off?"

"Are…are you okay?"

"Ngggh, just fine," I panted. "Whew, almost lost it there for a second."

"Would that have been bad if you did?"

"Well, it all depends on how aroused the human male is, but the general rule of thumb is that if a guy goes, you need to wait ten or fifteen minutes before he's ready to go again."

"But…" Nya's face alternated between looking at me and my groin, "…you're good now?"

I held up a hand as I still needed to catch my breath. Counting down the seconds, I got to twenty when I decided that I had waited enough. "I am now," I said and quickly reached out to her, craving her warmth against my skin. Nya obliged and nearly leaped on me, her concern immediately forgotten as she began to kiss me all over my face, her need for affection in no way satiated.

It was only after Nya's breasts kept rubbing on me that I decided that I could not take it anymore. With a desirous grunt, I broke away from her lips, but continued to apply kisses on her neck as I proceeded downward, sucking and licking at her warm flesh. Nya moaned as I gave every inch of her body equal love, as I felt that it was the least I could do for my putting her through a roller coaster of emotions. I could only imagine the intensity of what my ministrations upon her skin were currently impacting onto her. It made me wonder just how she was going to react in a few minutes' time.

I kissed the area between Nya's breasts and gently groped them. With me giving attention to her erogenous zones, Nya was squirming and crying out, already falling into her paradise. Satisfied that I was headed in the right direction, I popped one of the quarian's nipples into my mouth and began to gently suck. Humming while I suckled at her breast, Nya became speechless as a flood of hormones dashed against her. Her hands cupped my face and I could see her face glowing as she gave an open smile.

"I… _ohhhhh_ ," she gasped. "Sam…that…that feels so _goooood_."

That was precisely what I wanted to hear. I did not respond, but continued to suckle while I gently rolled her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Nya's body was now beginning to twitch the more I lingered at her breasts. It was rather soothing in this position, just me attending to her while she received a constant dose of pleasure. If it were not for my desire to impart even more bliss onto her, I surmised that I would have continued to suck at her teats for the entire night, for it felt so relaxing.

I detached myself from her breast after another minute and continued down on my original path, kissing and licking a trail down her body. I kissed the bottom swell of her breasts, enjoying her gasps of happiness, before I eyed another thin scar just above her belly button. Now feeling a bit of dread, I rubbed my fingers along the raised flesh and lifted my head to meet her eyes. She did not need to acknowledge the fact that the scar was the result of the encounter in the alley – just a simple scar instead of her corpse crumpled on the ground. It was such a small thing, such a simple thing, but it was a reminder that, in spite of what I had meant to do, I had made a difference in one person's life. And perhaps, that was not so bad.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it before I resumed scooting my body downward, giving the scar a quick kiss before I continued on. Nya's head tilted upward, curious at what I was doing. I poked my tongue in and around her navel before I nibbled the flesh of her soft stomach. Laughing in response to my light biting and tickling, Nya curled her legs as this obviously barbaric human continued to impart these strange sensations over her body. Years of being confined inside an enviro-suit, cutting it off from the elements, had rendered Nya's skin to be smooth and hairless. It yielded to my touch, twitching wherever I laid a finger upon her. And Nya continued to moan as I touched her everywhere, for I wanted her to feel everything that I could. I wanted to show her what others could not. I slid down a few more inches.

Nya moaned out, uncomprehending at what I was doing for a moment.

"Shh," I breathed as I slowly lowered my head in between her legs. I kissed her inner thighs slowly, moving from one to the other as my destination lay within sight. The quarian trembled, now understanding what was going to happen but she voiced no protests. In fact, she let out a keen because I was going so slowly, anxious for me to begin.

How sweet. I think that the both of us were going to like this very much.

Without giving her any more time to flounder in confusion, I leaned forward and buried my head between her legs. She was not all that different from a human down there in terms of anatomy, so I had no problems navigating and once my lips reached her sex, I was able to find the little crux of her pleasure quickly within her folds and began to move my tongue in a circular pattern around it.

The effect was akin to flipping on a light switch. Nya loudly moaned in pleasure and her strong thighs instantly contracted around my head, threatening to crush my skull. Her hands grabbed at my head, clenching at my hair while I bobbed up and down in a slow rhythm. Nya was so sensitive that it barely took any effort on my part to please her. I kissed her down there, occasionally using my tongue to flick at her weakness before taking a few seconds to lightly suck on it, backing off before the sensations became painful instead of pleasurable.

I had seen just how aroused she was before I had even started to orally pleasure her. She was only getting wetter as I became entranced with making this alien – Nya – very happy. Her flavor was on my tongue, surprisingly sweet, and I was thankful that I had the foresight to take those medications beforehand as I was continually taking her essence into my mouth and down my throat. I lovingly continued to go down on her, her cries serenading me, unimaginable ecstasy flooding my quarian partner.

"Ngh!" Nya cried out throatily, her moans brought on by pleasure and not pain. "Uh…uh…ah…ah…ahhhh! _Ah! Ahhhh!_ "

What beautiful noises she could make.

"Mmmph," I mumbled against her flesh, smacking my lips. "You taste good, Nya."

Her mouth became agape at that, either from the vulgarity of the statement or from the fact that it managed to arouse her to the point where she was completely swimming in a humid haze of lust. After all, no one had ever said such a thing to her before nor could she even dream that someone would say it to her at _all_. As my mouth was on her again, Nya continued to cry through her mental fog, utterly lost in a fantasy.

"Don't…" she attempted to say, "…don't stop. _Pleeeeaaase_ , Sam. Uhhhh…don't stop…don't stop…it's _wonderful_."

Between my sucking and kissing, Nya managed to approach her peak very quickly. However, I was still enjoying myself down there and wanted to keep this going a little longer. My beard was now soaked from her wetness but I still kept at it, burrowing my face in her sex as she continued to writhe on the sleeping bag. I could tell, from the clenching of her muscles around my head, that she was very close. At the last second, I eased my tempo and lifted my face off so that I could breathe, but not yet done.

"No…" Nya moaned huskily as the burning pleasure already began to die down to a smolder. "No…Sam… _please_ …"

With her imploring like that, there was no way that I had the willpower to mount a defense against her, but I managed to wait a few more seconds before I went back at it. I made groaning noises as I passionately went down on her, continuing to drink from her desire. This only served to elevate her to that blissful plateau again, but before she could take the fateful plunge, I backed off once again.

Now Nya was starting to mumble a string of words so slurred and jumbled that I was not sure if she was speaking Khelish or just gibberish. She was so saturated with excitement and hormones that her current sense of time and place was all frazzled to hell. I slid a hand across her stomach, briefly brushing one of her breasts, before I grabbed her hand, feeling the bones of her three fingers in my grip as I squeezed to reassure her. I then dove in with delight for the last time.

I did not cease in my comforting motions. I made sure that my mouth never left Nya's womanhood as I increased the intensity of my sucking and the movements of my tongue. Nya's hand crushed my own as she thrashed this way and that, crying, begging, sobbing for release. Tears flowed down her face in jubilation and I threw everything I had into pleasing her until her torso bucked and I heard a wonderful moan come to my ears. I kept at my oral ministrations as Nya slowly floated back down from her orgasm. The taste of her release was still on my tongue and I gulped it down, feeling flushed, hot, and alive. Her body jerked against my mouth as she continued to spasm in her aftershocks, and it was only when those finally quelled did I stop and move back up to her to reunite our lips in a kiss.

"You…" I mumbled in between kisses, "…did you like that, Nya?"

Panting, her face starting to cool, she gave a tired but jubilant nod. "It…it was the best orgasm of my life," she gurgled happily. High praise indeed. With such earnestness, I was completely besotted.

But my fears were starting to return again. This was the moment that I had subconsciously dreaded, not for my sake but for Nya's. She, however, seemed oblivious to my worries as her torso was gently rising up and down in a blind need, her brain thick with lust.

Noting her fatigued expression, I felt my face stiffen in concern. I did not want to exhaust her any more than necessary. In my mind, what I wanted was not even part of the equation. This night was to all be dictated by her; to implore her to continue when she had no more energy left to spend would be unreasonable. Besides, it did not matter if I could not get myself off. That sort of thing was usually easier for males to achieve if they set their minds to it, so that did not worry me.

I sat up and positioned myself over her, my shaft lined up at her entrance. Nya whimpered, her body noticeably throbbing. In preparation, I placed my hands on her hips and made sure to address her with all the seriousness I could muster.

"Nya…remember…"

" _Don't_ ," she emphasized, already knowing what I was going to say. "I'll…I'll be fine, Sam."

I took a deep breath but as much as I tried, I was still unconvinced. Sighing, I surrendered to her will and gave a curt nod. "All right," I breathed before I was hit with a dose of clarity. "Wrap your legs around me."

She looked puzzled for a second until she realized what was going on. Lifting her strong thighs, she hooked her feet around my lower back, allowing me easier access and a better angle. Her hands grasped my arms and she spoke again for emphasis.

"I…I w-want you…in- _inside_ me, Sam."

In the next moment, I obliged.

We both gasped at the same time. I made sure to go at an agonizingly slow pace, but even that did not seem to be enough. Her body struggled to accept my manhood as she was stretched wider than intended. I grunted, sweat beginning to pour down my face, as I struggled to maintain my composure. Every inch Nya's body afforded me felt so horribly wrong, like this was never meant to happen to her. Her hands clenched at my skin and she trembled, already starting to cry out. This time I knew she was in pain, but she said nothing of stopping. Not once did she even voice an objection, but desperately tried to stifle her sobs. Disgusted at myself, I continued to push forward.

Her passage clenched all around my shaft and I was worried for one horrible second that I would lose control of myself but that feeling passed once my self-hatred began to take hold. I felt physically ill – sick to my stomach – that I was doing this. Tears were running down Nya's face now and she was openly weeping as I – the intruding alien – continued to push deeper into her body. Her nails broke the skin at my arms, drawing blood, but I did not feel this. I did not seem to be feeling anything at all other than a complete loathing at my existence.

Why? Why did she not tell me to stop? I wanted to scream at her, _beg_ her to stop. Why couldn't she see that she was suffering needlessly? Why did she have me hurting her like this?

Nya croaked out a moan as her core quivered with another orgasm, brought on by my presence into parts yet untapped. I slipped another centimeter inside her and as Nya screamed, I was practically on the verge of throwing up. Finally overriding everything, I succumbed to my inhibitions and ceased pushing forward. I was only halfway in her, yet it felt that I had already gone too far. I did not notice that I had been steadily crying for the past minute, and it was only from the sensation of tears running down my face, splashing onto Nya's abdomen did both of us realize that I had stopped, the latter finally mustering the energy to speak.

"S-Sam?" Nya moaned huskily, her voice cracking. "What…what's wrong?"

What's wrong? She is practically shrieking in pain from my actions and she asks _me_ what's wrong? Am I going mad all of a sudden?

"I…I can't…" I muttered in frustration as I wiped my eyes. "I can't do this, Nya. This isn't right. I don't want to hurt you."

Her face fell as she understood, but she did her damnedest to wipe away the tears that stained her beautiful face. As best as she could manage, she shook her head with what must have been a herculean effort.

"It won't be for much longer," she whispered. "I…I need this, Sam. I n-need _you_. Share yourself with me. Please."

"Dammit, Nya," I moaned helplessly. "Don't do this. I won't think any less of you, I promise. I love you too much to see you in this way."

She bit her lip for a second, managing to look immeasurably cute even in such an immodest position. "It will be over in a few more seconds," she urged. "Then it won't hurt anymore. Sam… _please_."

"Nya, for god's sake-,"

"I love you."

Shit. She had me backed into a corner here. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. All because this woman was so utterly infatuated with me that she would literally go through hell to do this.

Her hands reached around to my buttocks and, in conjunction with her legs, began to urge me forward again. I was torn; I wanted so much to stop this, but I had no intention of displeasing her. Clenching my eyes shut so that no more tears could spill forth, I went along with her movements and desperately tried to quash my nausea down. Nya's moans were quieter now – there were no more screams of pain – but I could still hear them trying to escape from her clamped lips while she gripped at the slippery surface of the sleeping bag for support.

I counted the seconds in my head, making sure to mentally shout them out loud. I tried to concentrate on something, anything that would distract me from Nya's wails and the dragging sensation on my manhood. I prayed that it would not be much longer, for I was about to cry out in despair for what I was doing. I had reached the number twenty-two before I felt a horrible moment of resistance as I pushed forward. Before I knew what I was doing, I had given myself a final thrust and I slipped the last few millimeters into Nya, her virginity now taken.

"Oh, thank the Ancestors," Nya gasped.

Wanting to make sure that she adjusted to my penetration, I deliberately sat still for a few minutes. I now noticed that Nya's grip on my limbs was so tight that it was painful, yet her muscles were slowly relaxing, releasing her death hold on me. I then noticed the blood welling from the fresh cuts that her nails caused, which I wiped away. Nya's soft belly was rising in what had been shallow puffs to now slow and deep inhalations. I had not fully shaken the shame off of me so I bent my elbows so that I could kiss Nya as a way of an apology. Amazingly, she responded, albeit in a weak fashion, with her lips gently brushing against mine. Our wet gasps intermingled as we remained joined, Nya's previous agony gradually becoming forgotten.

Cupping her face after our tongues lightly touched, I fixated the quarian in my eyes. "You all right?" I managed to mumble.

She gave a weak cough, which alarmed me at fear that she had already caught some of my germs, but she let it pass. "N-Never better," she smiled.

"You liar," I resisted the urge to sob in relief.

She gave a shameless shrug. "It was worth it."

"Uh-huh," I said tonelessly. "So you say. But we haven't really begun yet."

"I know," she beamed with a nervous bob of her head before she squeezed my limbs. "Just…just let me wait for a moment. This…this feels really strange."

"Take as much time as you need, love," I smiled, already feeling a lightness in my chest.

A few minutes later, Nya gave the first nonverbal cue that she was ready to begin. Her hips began to shift forward slightly, causing my manhood to withdraw from her passage. Picking up on the fact that her muscles had adjusted to my presence as much as they needed, I also moved my body, taking great care to do so slowly as not to cause her any excess pain. No more tears spilled from Nya's eyes, yet the damp trails remained. Her once frightening screams had turned to lusty moans, deep and longing as I reached the terminus and gradually plunged myself back into her body, locking ourselves together in the oldest embrace of all.

Relief gave way to delight. Our lovemaking had commenced.

I groaned as I could feel myself begin to twitch helplessly while I continued in my crawling pace. Bringing my head low, I could feel the same in Nya. Our muscles trembled as our senses heightened, the quarian's sweet scent becoming more potent to my nose and my skin prickling wherever she touched me. Her hips wiggled to maximize the pleasure and we both gasped as the slick friction between us grew ever more delicious. Nya raised her head so that she could kiss me before the sensations became too much and she flopped back down on the bed, her eyes closed in bliss. Her teeth were clenched as the waves of pleasure rolled over her and her face gradually became more flushed. Her legs assisted me in pushing in and out, already autonomous to the set rhythm. And above her, I panted and strove to control myself.

As our mating continued, I was so conscious of Nya that I could make out every single change that was occurring in her body. I paid attention to her breathing, to her mewls and coos, that I knew that she was approaching yet another climax after only a few minutes while I, conversely, still felt strong. It was not like Nya was an outlier in the fact that she was extremely sensitive, but I had to remind myself that quarians were underexposed to this sort of stimuli. It made sense that their time between orgasms would be rapidly diminished compared to a human's. After all, us humans could touch ourselves all we liked. Nya never had that sort of luxury before.

I soon felt myself throbbing as Nya's inner chamber pulsated, but I was not nearing my own ending for the night yet. Her desperate moans escalated to cries, her burning groin spasming against mine as she began to come. Hot ejaculate coated my member and the sweat-stained Nya shrieked as her body violently jerked, her spine arching and her toes digging into my thighs as she basked in the aftershocks, a stupid smile coming to her lips as she began to giggle uncontrollably. I too joined in her laugher and kissed the obviously love-crazy woman, stilling my movements while she rode down from her peak.

"So beautiful…" I gasped into her neck while my hand groped at one of her breasts.

"Ah…Sam…" Nya hissed through her delirium before she gave a throaty growl. "M-More…"

Sliding my arms underneath her back, I gently began to lift Nya up at the same time I fell back so that I could sit upright. In one smooth motion, Nya was on my lap, her butt on my upper thighs and her legs still maintaining their death grip around my waist. One of her hands grasped my shoulder while the other clenched at the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my brown hair so tightly that it made my eyes water.

Picking up the slow pace we maintained before, Nya and I continued to make love, with her steadily bouncing up and down on my lap. Based on her low moans and twitching limbs, I could tell that this new position was incredibly more intense for Nya. Our sweaty bellies slid against the other, her breasts brushed my chest relentlessly – her nipples ever teasing my resolve. I leaned forward in my lust, using my arms to steady my quarian partner as we kissed, causing our moans to muffle themselves against our mouths.

Everything was so acute, so passionate, that it robbed us of the will to do anything but move against the other in the heat of sex. Our kisses fizzled out as our breaths became shallower, but we strived to press our lips together continuously, even if we would have to break away for short periods of time to get our precious air back. I grabbed at her back, feeling the hard muscle that knotted there, as I held, touched, and kissed the warm body that I was currently intertwined with. I licked and sucked some more at her breasts, her nipples as hard as bullets by now, and Nya gave out a loud mewl followed by an overwhelmed whimper. It was the most skin I had ever been exposed to all at once, and if anything, Nya was responding even more strongly. With all of this contact imparted onto her body, her mind was most likely going crazy by now and I was rather surprised that she still remained this lucid.

She cried out my name many times, and I breathily responded. Nya held on for dear life as our pelvises slowly came together and separated, our movements slow and deliberate. I could smell her everywhere – strong and sweet – and I could not resist growling out in a feral manner. I was on the edge of losing my mind in a torrid frenzy. Between the noises we were making, I was sure that the whole camp was able to hear the weird interracial couple in the corner banging their brains out, soundproofed tent be damned.

As I continued to guide her movements, penetrating her deeply yet as gently as I could, I bent my head to lick the area between Nya's breasts while one of my hands came around her front to grope one as they were drawing so much attention to themselves that I could not leave them unattended. She began sobbing joyously again as she approached her peak and I could feel a similar change occurring in me as well.

The problem with that was, at the rate Nya was going, I was approaching my own climax at a sooner point in time than I would prefer. Fortunately, there were several ways to combat that problem without disappointing either party.

I leaned forward, spilling Nya back onto the sleeping bag and slowly pulled out of her, causing her to whimper as my withdrawal left her feeling empty, just when she had been about to come, too. Panting and red-faced, I backed up a little bit and dipped my head back down between her legs again. "I just…have to taste you…again," I mumbled in between breaths before she could ask the inevitable question as to why I had abruptly stopped.

It was probably the fact that I had initiated such a change without warning that it came as a pleasant surprise to Nya and she was happily writhing again as I eagerly lapped at her sex. The notion that she was wanted, that I was consumed with desire to go down on her, helped her feel sexier than ever in such an erotic moment. This also helped to give me time to recover, to help my stamina regenerate as the stimulation vanished. The theory was sound but I was having a bit more trouble recovering than I thought as the sight of Nya's body undulating in response to me orally pleasuring her was keeping me at a certain point of arousal that, if she were to stroke me once, then that would be it. Regardless, I kept at it and Nya orgasmed in practically no time with a loud wail, her body flopping on the bag as she was spent over and over again. Her back arched and Nya drummed her toned legs up and down on the bag as her orgasm swept over her.

The expressions on her cute face were gorgeous. Her eyes were screwed shut and her bottom lip was sucked into her mouth. She fell still for but a moment, emitting a sigh as the blissful quiet passed between us.

When I raised my head up again, I was once more soaked with her arousal. I wiped off my chin as best as I could. Now I could no longer stand waiting anymore. I needed to have her right here, right now. But this would be different. I laid down on my back instead, my eyes imploring for Nya to be the one to take charge. Trembling in excitement, Nya crawled over to me sexily, running a tongue up my body as she approached. Knowing the drill, Nya straddled my torso and positioned herself perfectly for my arrival. Her eyes silently pleaded with me to lose myself inside her, to stake my claim and make her mine. Only clear thoughts ahead of me, I smiled at her lovingly and she lowered herself down upon me, my entrance occurring easily and quickly to my relief.

I damn near came as I hilted myself within her, but I stilled my movements and pushed my need down. _Draw it out_ , I told myself. _Make her enjoy this_. Between my rapid string of gasps and her hitched moans though, I could barely move without edging myself closer and closer to losing control. With every miniscule twitch, I had to fight to restrain myself. Not so easy with Nya writhing atop me. I could feel the cords in my neck stand out and my face was probably the color of a tomato by now, my expression pained. Above me, the beautiful quarian closed her eyes as she awaited the finale, her face similarly flushed. Hers was the perfect expression of euphoria that I had ever seen, so raw that I felt a pang in my heart for sharing this important moment with her. Sweat beaded on us both, dripping from our faces, down her breasts and onto my chest. She was lost to the pleasure, she only wanted my presence now.

Cracking open an eyelid, Nya gave a peaceful smile, her soft belly quivering with her breaths. "Sam…" she pleaded. "I'm _yours_. I love you…I love you…I love you…I love you…"

That, combined with the fateful thrust that she made upon me, finally sent me over the edge. I gave a hoarse shout before my muscles locked up and I spasmed against her, mashing our groins together. Nya gave a gleeful moan as she felt me violently throb inside her before I climaxed. At the moment of orgasm, I honestly thought that I was going to pass out for all of the blood in my body rushed towards my nether regions, my member pulsating so hard that it hurt as I shot a powerful spurt into Nya. My heated discharge poured into Nya's womb and she moaned as a sublime and _warm_ feeling coated her inner chamber. I remained inside Nya for a bit, continuing to pant as my seed filled her, each contraction of my muscles producing a beastly noise from the back of my throat while a thick white liquid started to travel down Nya's inner thigh. Nya's legs shook at the foreign sensation and cried out in ecstasy as I made her mine. In that moment, everything was glorious.

Once my spasms calmed down and I was able to move from my locked position, I slowly withdrew myself from Nya, which elicited a pitiful mewl from her. I was still throbbing from my climax and Nya looked like she had fallen unconscious from going at it so intensely. It was only from her minute head-lolling could I tell that she was just dazed. And no wonder, the quarian – no, _woman_ – had just had a number of uninhibited orgasms in just the span of an hour. The fact that her body had not completely quit on her due to exhaustion had to be a minor miracle and an awe-inspiring demonstration of her sheer will.

Right then and there, I knew I would love her forever.

I grabbed the towels that I had previously set aside and used one to wipe myself off. I then crawled over to Nya and helped clean herself up. The process had no time for modesty – after all we had just had sex in the most passionate way that I've ever experienced, so I think that touching her anywhere was practically allowed at this point. Once our sweat and various fluids had been soaked up by the cloths, I threw them aside and helped to zip ourselves up in the sleeping bag. The bag itself was only meant for one person so I had to roll Nya partially on top of me, but her added body heat and naked touch in such a confined space helped dispel the chill that I had felt once our love making had ended.

We were too exhausted to start a conversation between us, except croak out an occasional " _I love you_ " in between kisses. Eventually, our fatigue caught up with us and we fell asleep at almost the same time, her head resting on my chest as we drifted off.

We had definitely earned this, together.

* * *

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: humans have too many fingers."

We had awoken two hours later and since we were not due to leave yet, we were still encased in the sleeping back, still naked, while Nya decided to play with my hands to her heart's content. The feel of her smooth skin against me – a loving presence – was a sensation that I would kill to make it last forever.

"Describe your thought process," I said as I put my other hand behind my head, propping it up. "How could you possibly say that when I had you completely at my mercy with five fingers?"

" _Three_ ," Nya corrected with a simper. "You only used three. Two for…inside, and the other for…well, you know…"

"Touché," was my automatic response. "But five fingers means more surface area that I can tickle. Like so."

"Damn it, you!" Nya laughed as I mercilessly attacked her side. She tried to thrash away but the sleeping bag merely held her tightly against me that she was unable to escape. Her face was bright with laughter and joy, if not a little bit of annoyance, and I felt myself getting aroused again. I stopped and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. She responded with a playful slap to my face.

"I deserved that," I grinned as I rubbed my face where she had struck it.

"You certainly did."

Gripping Nya's slim waist, I rolled her atop me because I could not resist the anxious look in her eyes. She gave my nose a light nip followed by a kiss and pretty soon we were making out again. Kissing her was more addictive than any drug for each one had a bit of desperation hidden within the act itself, reminding me that moments like these did not last forever. It was like each kiss could be the last and therefore I had to have more, to forestall the inevitable end that loomed over the both of us.

I gave her butt a squeeze, enjoying her momentarily mortified look before it relaxed into pleasure. "Did you like it?" I asked.

"Did I like it?" she repeated incredulously. "Did _I_ like it? Were you not paying attention a couple hours ago or are you being obtuse on purpose?"

"It's a simple question," I said facetiously. "Did you enjoy yourself or not?"

Nya just gave an exasperated shake of your head, but with a smile as she did so. "I'm not playing this game of yours, Sam. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of stroking your male ego."

"That good, eh?"

"For the love of…" Nya was about to continue but she puffed out her cheeks and simply blew out air. "It was amazing."

"Better than any quarian could do, huh?"

Nya giggled. "Loads better. There was this one time, on the flotilla, where me and a bunch of other kids were hanging outside the room of a couple that had just been bonded hours ago and listened to them have sex. You know, kids are like that. The door was thin and we could hear everything inside…including the frustrated complaints from the woman when her husband went apparently a bit sooner than she desired. We were all laughing like lunatics then."

"So what you're saying is that most quarian men are two-pump chumps, right?" I even made the jerking motion with my hand so that Nya could know what I was talking about.

"That's what I've always heard. They're so nervous when it comes time to do the act that they lose themselves seconds into making love. The only difference is, instead of the minutes that you claim a human can recover, a quarian man can't recover for a couple hours."

That was a little tidbit that I had not known. Well, I was not a sex doctor, so I think I could be forgiven for being oblivious on that front.

"I guess I should be thankful that I'm a human."

" _You're_ thankful?" Nya leaned forward and ran her tongue up my neck sweetly. "I'd wager that I'm more thankful than you."

"Wow. That's pretty selfish."

"Just shut up and kiss me again," Nya rolled her eyes.

I sat up, my eyebrows raised in a mocking manner. "I can certainly do that," I said in a suave tone and obliged her while Nya was overcome by a fit of the giggles. We had only begun to get into it, my hand caressing one of Nya's breasts, when a loud siren wailed from outside the tent, causing the both of us to jump.

We looked at the other in a panic. "Shit," we said together, knowing that our allotted time was up. The soldiers were pulling out; the final battle was about to begin.

Scrambling around the small confines of the tent, we hastily pulled our clothes back on. It took me less time for me to put on my shirt, pants, and combat armor so I helped Nya put her suit back on. I handed to her some of the belts that she had strewn about the area and tugged at portions of her suit to make them snug again. After slipping on her boots and most of her helmet, Nya's visor was the last thing to put on, the final item that was now in my hands. I looked at the faceless covering for a bit and back to Nya's sad expression. I was about to say something cheesy yet meaningful when Nya grabbed my front and pulled me in for a final kiss.

When our lips pressed together, I knew that I would remember this moment for the rest of my life. Nya's tongue darted out hungrily and I met her halfway, locking our jaws into this sensual act as we drew out this kiss. Our wet muscles twirled briefly, our noses blew hot air against each other, and we gave minute moans of joy, of excitement, and of sorrow. I hoped that this would not be the last time but if it was, then it was a damn good time.

We broke apart with a gasp, our eyes lidded with ravenous desire. Nya licked her lips and I handed the visor to her. "I have never been so loved before," she whispered, her voice as light as fine china.

"No matter what happens out there," I breathed intensely, "stay by my side. We'll be safer if we stick together, you and I. Stay close to me and stay alive."

"Promise the same to me first," Nya begged urgently.

"I promise," I obliged without hesitation. Nya repeated those words just seconds after me.

With nothing else to accomplish and with no more time to lose, we both stood up in the tent. There was a hissing noise and a series of clicks as Nya donned her visor once more, her luminous eyes once again sadly glistening behind the translucent barrier. The sorrow soon vanished as we pondered the implications of the near future, steeling ourselves for the hell that awaited us just on the surface.

With fear in our hearts but steel in our nerves, we left the tent behind.

* * *

 **A/N: If you got into trouble because you were reading this at the office, that's not my fault. I gave ample warning, that's all on you.**

 **And no, I have no idea when the next chapter is going to be released. All I can say with certainty is that it will take me more than a week to complete. I could always get run over by a bus in the meantime so that time might be extended to...never. I hope that doesn't happen, though. I've only three more chapters left to write. Knock on wood.**

 **Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see for myself if Batman v. Superman is worth all that critical bashing.**


	22. Chapter 22: Anger Manifested

Although it had felt like half a day had passed since Nya and I traversed into the London Underground, when we came back up the sky was still pitch black, the stars hidden behind a cover of thick smoke. My chronometer was telling me that it was currently three in the morning local time, an ungodly hour that I would, under normal circumstances, never allow myself to be conscious right about now.

I had a feeling that normal was a word that I could never use to describe myself as again. If anything, what had transpired just two hours ago had only sealed the deal.

Once stepping back into the cool air, Nya and I shuffled into a ragged column behind a trio of ambling Mako tanks escorting what looked like a wheeled nuclear missile launcher, kind of like the ones you saw in those old Soviet videos when you were catching up on your 1970s European History. These platforms were called Thanix missile launchers and they, fortunately, did not launch nukes. Rather, the technology behind them was less sloppily destructive but even more ingenious in how it dispersed energy in a clean form.

The Thanix cannon was the result of a turian skunkworks corporation reverse-engineering the main particle cannon from _Sovereign_ , the original Reaper that first attacked the Citadel. The Thanix could either be fired in beam or in missile form, both doing extraordinary amounts of damage to wherever it might strike. Essentially, the core of the projectile is a liquid alloy of iron, tungsten, and uranium suspended in an electromagnetic field powered by the deus-ex-machina material itself: element zero. The alloy solidifies as it is fired at a significant fraction of the speed of light which is what gives it its destructive powers.

Thanix missiles are a bit of a different story. Unlike the cannon, the missiles are significantly slower moving projectiles, but they also carry quite a bit of destruction within the casing. When the missile impacts on its target, the element zero-fueled explosion accelerates the liquid alloy that is housed at the nose of the missile itself, enabling it to gain a huge amount of kinetic energy which it then would be able to impart onto the target. The missile plus their platforms are significantly cheaper than building the cannons that just shoot the alloy itself, which is why the ground campaign had allocated several of these to the front lines.

Welcome to England, apparently.

The column that I was ambling along with was mixed-race, as in there were mainly humans and quarians comprising the unit (since we happened to be near the quarian staging area) along with a few turians and krogans that I could see. There was no one else that I recognized around me, besides Nya of course. Not a single person from the platoon that I had been roped up with since Seattle crossed my path. The very second that I had touched boots on the ground, I had yet to see a familiar human face. Guess that's what happens when your original ride gets shot down and you have another race come and pick you up.

I was not too upset at being displaced from my unit as there had not been many people left that I had held a bond of any significance with. Compared to the people I was situated around now though, that original group had seemed far more stoic and professional than the men and woman I was currently marching with. There seemed to be a lot more people around me that were considerably more frazzled at what to do. Several heads were turning anxiously, people were muttering hushed prayers under their breath, and a few were so nervous that they threw up along the side of the road. A few people, unused to the conditions that so accompanied a war tutted at the number of people who lost their lunch, but most simply continued on, stone-faced.

Before I had headed out, I made a quick trip to the armory but they had no weapons that they could loan out to me, so I was still left with a pistol as my only gun that I had on my person. No one even gave me the courtesy of handing me a grenade, so my overall mood was souring more and more the closer we wandered towards the detonations in the distance. Call me ungrateful but I would rather have something significantly more powerful than a dinky pistol that I would be embarrassed to take to a range for target shooting. I might be able to cap a husk between the eyes…but it would take at least five more shots from this thing to properly fell it.

I should have stolen a shotgun from someone while they were sleeping. Curse my innate desire to be an outstanding member of society while everything crumbled all around me.

To add insult to injury, it also did not seem like my services as an amateur medic were wanted right about now. At this stage in the fighting, every warm body had been handed a gun and told to march off and die for the free galaxy, no matter what profession they held. There had been no easy chain of command for me to suddenly inherit a medic position at the FOB, and even if there had, they still would have turned me away to fight because our very existence hung by a thread. One extra person that was fighting fit could be the difference between life and death for us all. In that case, it was very much true, but that limited information was not privy to anyone outside of Shepard's inner circle…except me…and perhaps Nya.

So, here I was, still fighting the fight that I had no interest in, yet I was alongside the woman I loved. If anything, that definitely helped my psyche knowing that Nya was by my side. It made me feel better amongst this sea of pessimism. Except when I stole the occasional glance at the ginormous assault rifle that Nya was toting and it dimly reminded me that I had, in all honesty, brought a water pistol to a gun fight and that Nya happened to be carrying the gun to end all gun fights. It was amazing how effortless she was able to carry it. I must have been the only person on this planet to feel so emasculated in the middle of a war.

This was it, I guess. The long walk. The end of days. Was this how men felt while they were walking off to war? Scared shitless? Were we doing this voluntarily, or being forced to fight for this cause that transcended individualism? Was it ignoble that we were fighting for something that could very well be a lost cause or could that be confused with bravery?

Nya's hand briefly bumped my own as we trotted behind the final Mako in the column. I involuntarily looked at her and she deliberately squeezed my hand, indicating to me that her movements were completely intentional. We had been stealing glances at each other the entire way, our thoughts still on the intimate encounter we had shared together. How I wished that we could have stayed in that tent for a few hours longer.

"Don't be afraid," she said so quietly that only I could hear it, even over the roar of the tires on cracked asphalt.

"Kind of a tall order, there," I replied in a shaky voice.

"We're going to win. You said so yourself."

She could be so confident even when the deck was stacked against us. I only wished I had her courage. "I said we'd win, yes. I never said that we will _survive_ , specifically."

Nya gave a huff. "Lighten up. Us against the Reapers? I'd take those odds."

I could only smile. "You never give up, do you? I'm actually more worried about you than I am about myself. After all, you're the one who's more fragile."

Nya responded with a sharp punch to my upper arm. I yelped and rubbed the spot where she had hit me, my face frozen with astonishment.

"You want to try calling me fragile again?" the quarian hissed victoriously.

"Speaking figuratively," I gritted. "Damn, woman. Did you _have_ to hit me full on with your bony knuckles? Talk about domestic violence."

"We're not in a domicile," Nya pointed out. "Therefore it's not domestic."

I was about to comment at the prolific violence that currently surrounded us, in case we had both forgotten where we currently were. That is, until a series of gun blasts exploded from a cratered out apartment building down the road, catching one of the Makos and causing it to blow up almost immediately. Flaming shrapnel rained down on us and every one that had been in the column scattered like roaches. However, I was one of the few that did not turn tail instantly, momentarily paralyzed with panic, and Nya had to grab me by my combat vest so that she could haul me into an adjacent office building, throwing me past the threshold of the doorway.

I almost tripped and fell headlong into a stairwell, but was able to grab the railing just before I could smash my face open on the steps. Taking a glance behind was all I needed to see that the streets had become part of the ever-expanding warzone in the span of mere seconds – flame, dust, and noise were exchanged throughout the historic boulevard which was a clear indication that we should probably not venture back outside unless we wanted to find ourselves short a few limbs or liters of blood.

"Well," Nya said mildly after dusting off her enviro-suit, "I'd guess that our unit is succeeding in some way." Odd, she didn't seem to be too shaken up about the fact that people were dying around her. Either there was no one that she had known or cared significantly about in the platoon or she had learned to disassociate herself from the horrific acts of war already. No need to worry about myself, for I had been numb for a while.

"Wait…what _was_ our objective?" I asked as we hustled up to the second floor, Nya taking point as she swept her big gun around.

Nya shrugged. "They only told us that we'd be a diversion squad. They didn't exactly specify who we would be distracting for, but I'm willing to bet that it must be for Shepard and his crew."

"If memory serves me," I scratched my head with the hand that was not holding my pistol, "Shepard is making a push for that beam in the middle of the city right about now. For some reason, it's a portal that leads up to the Citadel. That's where the end of the game takes place."

"Hopefully he doesn't pick that stupid synthesis ending."

"I know. I like my DNA the way it is, thank you."

We continued in silence as we made our way through the office building, creeping so as not to make any notice in case there were enemies lurking about. The power was out, the halls and rooms only illuminated from the explosions currently transpiring all over the city, casting our strobing shadows along the walls.

It was eerie, walking through an empty office building. I had the occasion of being in empty buildings like this before, but not at how rapidly this place in particular had been abandoned. It was like everyone had up and left without any second thoughts as to retrieving their belongings. Empty chairs were kicked over in the cubicles – evidence of the panic that had occurred when the invasion had first started. A few workstations still had power, albeit the blinking lights from their dying mesh cell batteries indicated that they had been left in their sleep mode for quite a while. Shattered glass was strewn all over the place, blown in from the destroyed windows.

The one thing that was missing from my own mental picture was that, from an evacuation like this, there would be at least a few people that would have spilled over a stack of papers in their haste to leave the building. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that there was nary a single sheet to be found carelessly left on the ground or that had been blown about from the winds. It then occurred to me that no one used paper anymore as a form of media transcribing, not even on Earth. No one had to go through the hassle of trying to connect printers to computers or taking notes in a workbook; everything today was all electronic, all digital. Not even the books today were available in print – bad news for the traditionalists. That explained why this abandoned office was the cleanest looking abandoned office I had set my eyes on. I never expected to make such a comparison like that in my life before.

There was a crunching noise and I looked over in alarm at the sudden sound. However, it was just Nya kneeling down to pick up something that she had stepped on. Straightening up, she looked at the object forlornly for a moment before she silently handed it to me.

It was a digital picture frame, the screen cracked and flickering from Nya trodding on it with her boot. It depicted a man, beaming as he hooked his arms around his wife and children, both looking as happy as could be. My chest tightened as I realized that I was looking into a window of what someone held very dear to them, even though I had never met or known them before in my life. I found myself wondering if the people in the picture were still alive, if they still had the capability to be as happy as what I was looking at in the picture. Respectfully, I put the frame down upright on a nearby desk, positioning it so that it looked right at home – the lone item that would otherwise symbolize normality for the workers at their desks, the cogs in the machine.

Light was thrown against us as a nearby explosion from a tank occurred just outside the window, the concussion shaking loose shards of glass from where they hung. It also silhouetted a crowd of husks that had been ambling about near the edge, now beginning to snarl and hiss as they took notice of the two warm bodies standing in the cubicle sea.

"Nya…" I warned.

"I see them," she growled as she slowly brought her gun to bear. I did the same with my pistol. "Just aim for the center of mass. Don't wait."

Those were certainly words to live by, so we followed them to the letter.

Nya's rifle pumped out rounds at supersonic speeds, immediately shredding the husks to pieces in a spray of diseased flesh. I squeezed the trigger of my pistol as fast as my finger could perform the action, but it felt like I might as well have been shooting a cap gun because the amount of carnage that I was creating was significantly less than what the quarian next to me was performing.

More Reaperized creatures joined the fun, but our combined bullets tore them apart. Several were cut in half, the separate pieces flopping about as the sliced nerves tried to command their bodies to move. I ducked behind a desk and carefully aimed my pistol at separate targets, now starting to take my time with each shot. My pistol was powerful enough to drop a husk if I hit it in the right spot, around the upper chest to the head. Bone punched out of bullet holes and husks fell in droves, their mouths open in silent screams of fury.

There was a sudden lull in the action as Nya momentarily paused to eject a spent thermal clip out of her rifle. She was having trouble as the clip seemed to be jammed, but there was no inherent danger as all of the enemies in the room were currently lying on the floor in several different places. I spotted a cannibal trying to drag itself forward, its blue maw squealing as it grasped the ground. The thing's legs were missing below the knees, completely sheared off that I could see the black bone poking through the ragged muscle and sinew.

All of a sudden, I had a brief moment of unexpected anger. Here was something that had no free will of its own, but it represented everything that I hated about this entire, shitty situation. It was not like this cannibal had killed my parents or anything that dark, but it was one member of the entire cadre of mutated freaks that had uprooted my one chance to be normal. I had wanted to have a boring life, a routine job, a sufficient apartment, and I had expected to be single until I died, at the very least. Right now, I had no routine job, no apartment, a life of excitement, and I had also failed at being single due to my unintentionally chivalrous actions in the past. I had hopelessly blundered at every single rule that I had in place and now was the opportunity for me to impart some of my rage onto the hapless cannibal that was still struggling to travel a few feet forward.

The clip in my pistol was fresh and the weapon kicked back comfortably on the first shot once I had stood up from my cover. The bullet passed through the creature's forehead on a direct hit, popping its skull open and spraying brains all over the floor. It slumped, dead, but I was not remotely satisfied.

I fired again, and again, and again. Blood spurted out of the holes that I punched into its body repeatedly. I walked forward as I pulled the trigger, only pausing just so that I could bring the gun back down after the recoil had kicked it upward. The cannibal's face was barely recognizable at this point, for I had practically eliminated all the facial features on its head. Its jaw hung by a thread, its eyeballs oozed out from shattered sockets, and ichor dripped from its punctured chest.

I tried to pull the trigger again, but there was only a hiss and resistance as the mechanism refused to give. The thermal clip had finally been spent. I thumbed the release and ejected the clip for it to clatter along the floor, the next clip loading automatically. The distance between me and the cannibal had been closed at this point and it required very little effort from me to point the pistol as it lay lifelessly below me, ready to continue in my grisly work.

But before I could fire again, Nya suddenly grabbed my arm, wrenching it away. I whirled to face her and my expression must have been frightening because I watched her tremble for a second before she steeled herself and tightened her grip on me. Her fingers clenched at my wrist and I gasped at how painful it was.

"Stop, Sam," Nya said forcefully, but with a lot of sadness behind her words. "There's no point."

Breathing through my teeth, I so wanted to offer a justification for my actions, but at the same time, I knew that Nya was right. There was no point. The cannibal was already dead. To do any more would just be a waste. It would also drag me into that mental hole that I had just clambered out of. Nothing was worth dousing myself in that depression, I had learned. Nothing could justify it.

I'd better thank whatever deity that assigned Nya as my lifeline. Without her…

"Yeah," I uttered hoarsely as my hand that held the pistol began to start shaking. "Yeah…shit. I'm…I'm sorry about that, Nya."

"See what I mean?" Nya whispered as her hand caressed my jaw, forcing me to look directly at her. "You're just as fragile as I am."

I mustered a ragged laugh after I initially coughed. "Thought that you didn't want to be labeled as such."

"Now _I'm_ speaking figuratively. Do I have to hit you again?"

"Perish the thought," I said as I took Nya's hand and squeezed it briefly. "Thank you."

Nya's hand balled into a fist. "We look out for each other. That's what we've become."

The quarian turned to lead the way back towards the elevator bay, not seeing the warm smile that I had on my face from her reassuring words. However, my beaming expression quickly vanished as my world unexpectedly became topsy-turvy for a brief moment when a hard object forcefully rammed into my side after bursting through the flimsy walls of a nearby cubicle. I had only a second to blink in surprise as I felt the sensation of weightlessness upon me – I had just been tackled out of one of the broken windows. Way too soon, my body hit something hard after only less than a second of free fall, gravity causing me to roll down a slope of debris that had piled upon the side of the building, cutting my fall short. Each impact down the hill painfully rattled me, nasty enough to cause bruises. Throughout my fall, I could hear Nya crying out my name in a panic but I was too scatterbrained to answer back.

Eventually my descent slowed, giving me time to catch my breath and groan as the familiar throes of pain began to take hold. Nothing seemed broken courtesy of the armor that I was wearing so I was able to get to my feet no problem, now able to ascertain exactly what happened to me. I glanced upward and saw the outline of Nya, black against black, standing in the windowsill three stories above me.

Wow, did I really fall that high? Granted, that slope of debris that slowed my fall might have had something to do with the fact that I did not have a broken back at the moment, but the sheer distance that I had traveled was still something for me to ponder in wonder.

A chittering humanoid form lay just feet away from me, also struggling to get up, the noise drawing my attention. It was a marauder, a heavily modified turian now under the control of the Reapers. Based on its aggressive movements in my direction, it harbored a very intense desire to rip me limb from limb. And without offering me a drink, too. How nice.

I think I had it figured out. What must have happened was that the marauder had tackled me up in that office when I wasn't looking, too distracted by my girlfriend's soothing words – a cheap shot. Served me right for thinking that I was safe; no one was safe on this planet anymore. Apparently the marauder's overzealousness in trying to kill me had propelled both me and it out the window and sent us tumbling onto the slope, sending us on the slide from hell back down to the streets.

The creature warbled a cry of distress, its multiple eyes locked onto my face. It raised its arm to fire its plasma caster, but I was quicker on the draw this time. Point blank range, no chance that I'd miss. The bullet I fired its way tore half of the thing's face off, but the stuff that poured out was black and thick – not at all looking like blood. The marauder collapsed in its own gore and died in seconds. I holstered my pistol, wrinkling my nose at the smell of ozone and spilled fluids. At least I was able to shoot when it truly mattered.

"Sam!" a distant voice yelled. I looked up and saw Nya frantically waving from the third-story window. "You okay?"

I waved back. "I'm all right!" I hollered as I stretched my back. "Just took the scenic route." I gave the dead marauder's arm a good kick for emphasis.

Nya anxiously scanned the slope which I had fallen down. "I don't see a safe way back to the ground. I can't go out the way you did without tearing open my suit."

"Any suggestions?" I put my hands on my hips as I stepped forward to hear the quarian better.

She shook her head. "Just keep moving. I can see a Thanix platform down that street over there. This building has some walkways that connect to others in this neighborhood. I'll meet you near the missile launcher."

I craned my neck so that I could see the platform. Sure enough, it was there like she said, stationary as the accompanying guard had apparently all been killed from the Reaper forces. Oddly enough, the missile was still intact and the mobile rig was aimed in the direction of the beam in the middle of the city. That could potentially even the odds.

"The missile launcher, then," I called to affirm. "Don't take long, Nya."

"Don't get shot, Sam,"

"Now you had to go and jinx it for me," I muttered scathingly under my breath, but secretly savoring the humor of the situation.

Taking off at a jog, I hugged the wall of the nearest building as I headed in the direction that Nya had been pointing. I must have checked and rechecked my pistol three times in the minute that it took me to get to the platform, paranoid that the next time that I would have to raise it to fire, I would be inexplicably out of ammo. Yet each check showed that I had stuffed the pistol as full of thermal clips as it could allow – ensuring that I would not be wanting. That managed to assuage my nerves a bit until I would summarily forget that I had loaded it to begin with.

It was peculiar, I noticed, that after that little tussle that I had with the marauder, there were no other enemies in sight. Granted, I could hear the muted pops of gunfire off in the distance somewhere, but the streets in my vicinity were relatively quiet, devoid of violence. Knowing such occurrences, this either meant that I was a lucky son of a bitch or that I was heading headlong into a trap. I sincerely hoped that the former was the case. I was overdue for a dose of luck, anyway.

The missile platform was half a block away by now and I had managed to reach it unmolested. I did happen to sourly note, that a bunch of corpses were laying around the wheeled behemoth and most of them were not part of the Reapers' foot soldiers. That certainly was not good.

I knelt down by the first body that I came across, a male human, and turned him over gently. He did not die quickly, from the looks of things. His face was frozen in a mask of pain, and there were several gashes to his midsection that were so deep that part of his innards were exposed. He had died holding his guts in. There was nothing that I could do for him, so I moved on to the next body, and the next, and the next. All had gone the same way: violently torn to pieces.

Well, whoever had done this to them, they had moved on by now, having left the explosive materials behind. Either the Reapers were completely clueless as to what kind of asset a Thanix missile was to us or their presence was needed elsewhere to put down additional resistance. In any case, it was a blessing that the missile was even functional in the first place. I'm no engineer, but I could not see any external signs of sabotage around the platform that would render the missile inoperable and unable to fire.

A nearby radio crackled, startling me and causing me to utter a few blasphemous comments as my heart rate spiked.

"… _-that bastard out! Where's our cover? Silva, Young, Lee, give it everything you got!"_

Whatever they were fighting, it didn't sound good. Unfortunately, I could not glean from the sporadic radio comments the nature of the skirmish – no hints of enemy type or numbers. It also was not like I could pick up the radio myself and request clarification. I lacked the proper identification codes for the system to even accept me in the first place.

" _Where's that Thanix cover?!"_ the radio bleated. _"Don't fucking tell me that we have none left?!"_

Um…funny thing about that.

As I made my way to the missile's control panel, I found myself cursing my luck for being the most unqualified candidate for utilizing military hardware at such a crucial time. It was obvious that if I was going to do this, I would perhaps be altering the futures of several people. In my head, all I was doing was pushing a button, in theory. I had some semblance of devotion to this planet and, correct me if I'm wrong, the amount of damage that I could do to the timeline at this point was negligible.

But I had the capability to _save_ people right now! Was that not something worth making the attempt for?

The only problem was that I had no idea how the hell to launch this missile.

I consider myself to be technologically-savvy, but looking at the panel made me feel about a hundred IQ points lower. Every virtual button was an acronym for something that I had no idea what its function was. All the readouts, the gauges, everything made literally zero sense to me. I must have stood in place for two minutes, biting my nails as I tried to determine, without touching anything, the process to fire the Thanix without blowing myself up in the process.

Hmm…that green button looked good. I figured that I had no other hunch, so I pressed it.

Aw, hell. That just made everything worse! Instead of a menu filled with meaningless items, an entire _sheet's_ worth of acronyms, dials, and esoteric touches popped up that made the software literally unworkable on my end. All I could do was press the back button and touched the bright red button on a whim, having resorted to the "push everything" mindset. Apparently, I got lucky again and was treated to a menu displaying a stylized map as well as the target selected. Maybe I should start counting my blessings because the menu was telling me that there was already a target in mind for this Thanix missile to obliterate. Someone had the foresight to input in the foe whose day I was going to be ruining very soon, as it turned out. That would only make my job that much easier.

The radio was now squawking for more fire support and I was now itching to light this thing just so I could shut that crackling noise up. Thankfully, the platform's readout now had a button that read "FIRE" in big letters on it, and since I was pretty sure that the button itself was going to do exactly as it advertised, I went ahead and depressed it with an eager finger.

The resulting roar from the missile's engines had me clapping my hands over my head. Foolish of me. I had not considered the fact that igniting a missile so close to my person could deafen me yet again. Impartial to my potential loss of hearing, the missile shot off its platform flawlessly, becoming a golden comet in the sky as it streaked in an arc across the air. My eyes tracked the rocket gleefully, feeling an odd mixture of nervousness and masculinity coursing through me. This was no backyard rocket, let me tell you that, and it was exhilarating to witness.

The aforementioned exhilaration quickly died as soon as it had risen once I could see exactly what the missile's destination was. And I just froze in place, dumbstruck beyond words.

How could I have missed that I was shooting this missile at a _Reaper?_ And not just any Reaper, mind you…

There was no time to process the magnitude of what I had done, even as the missile impacted precisely on target, blossoming into a fiery flower that stemmed smoke and noise. The towering Reaper that I had just shot was thrown so violently to the side that it lost its balance, beginning to topple to the ground almost lazily, like it was in slow-motion. With an earth-shattering thud, the Reaper fell, crushing several buildings underneath its enormous profile, sending up a gigantic cloud of dust. Its horn blared, angered at its new and inconvenient orientation.

The Reaper's legs were still kicking; it was still functional as the Thanix missile had only hit its hard outer shell, but it was out of commission for the time being. Ordinarily, that would be a good thing, except for the fact that I had completely failed to notice beforehand that this particular Reaper had been standing guard by the beam, a watchdog, and firing upon any intruders that transgressed its set boundaries.

" _Harbinger is down!_ " the radio crowed triumphantly. " _Repeat, Harbinger is down! Shepard and his squad made it to the beam. Waiting on confirmat-… Moen, that Reaper is not dead yet. Put it out of its misery, would you?_ "

Mother. Fucker.

I did it again, didn't I?

The platform was smoking where the Thanix had launched and I began to trudge behind it in a daze. Holy hell, I know I've done some stupid stuff in the past, but that ought to trump them all. If that wasn't going to have large consequences, then I would be the only person surprised.

I knew that I had changed the narrative of the game again, this time much more irreparably than before. I knew that Harbinger was supposed to be one of the final barriers for Shepard and his team to encounter while heading to the beam, a foe that would end up injuring his teammates to the point that they needed to be extracted, and severely wounding Shepard himself so that he would be near death at the end of the game.

And I just interrupted the Reaper mid-massacre before it could land a shot on anyone important.

You know, I could have chosen to freak out right then and there. I could have gone into a panic attack, knowing that I just derailed the entirety of the Mass Effect ending thanks to my stupid mistake of not checking before pushing the missile launch button. Hell, the old Sam might have just taken his gun and shot himself in the head on the spot.

Instead, all I did was pull a face and gave a very half-hearted shrug. If I had not quit smoking, this definitely would have been an ideal time to light up.

"Huh," I muttered as I put my hands on my hips, surveying my handiwork off in the distance. "I wasn't expecting _that_ to happen."

And that was that.

Fuck the timeline, fuck the realm of possible futures, I had simply lost the capability to give a shit about all that anymore. So what if Shepard and company made it to the beam unscathed? In all honesty, that would probably help bring forward a brighter future now that the main character of the games was not bleeding out and that he had his best friends giving him support the entire way. It would have no bearing on how it would affect me in the slightest. Still, it figured that at the last possible moment that I would pull a stunt like this. I should have just rented a cabin in the Canadian wilderness and waited until the entire war blew over if I had known that I was going to screw everything up in the end. That would have been the smart thing to do, but as the empirical evidence suggests, I am not good at making smart decisions while under pressure.

Harbinger had gotten up off the ground and was now proceeding to shoot off into space, presumably frustrated that its plan to kill off Shepard had been so spectacularly foiled in true ironic fashion. That was my cue to skedaddle in case the Reaper decided to come calling for whoever fired that missile to begin with. There was gunfire coming from a machine gun nest in the next intersection, so I headed in that direction, desperate to see another living soul.

A collapsed wall had formed a hill of bricks leading up to the nest as I approached, so I was careful not to lose my footing as I clambered up it. I hopped over the lip of the former wall and came face to face with a quarian, one who jumped as I landed unexpectedly in their perch. I instinctively smiled, thinking that it was Nya, but frowned instead as I noticed a pea-green visor instead of a blood-red one.

"Oh no," I blurted out.

" _You_ ," Vhen growled as he twitched his gun in my direction.

"Yes, me," I affirmed as I gritted my teeth. How was it that I always managed to run into this guy every so often? He was like a bad feeling that I could not shake.

Vhen's eyes squinted apprehensively as he stayed silent for a few moments. "I would have thought you to be dead by now, human. At least, I had hoped that you were dead. The fact that you are still standing is…surprising."

"Aw, that's so sweet," I said in a fake syrupy tone. "Feeling's mutual, asshole. Trouble is, I'm like the Energizer bunny. I just keep going, and going, and going."

"Energizer…bunny?" Vhen's head tilted, not getting the reference. Well, pardon _me_ for trying to make a glib analogy, then!

"Forget it," I waved away. "I don't have time to argue with you now, Vhen. In case you haven't noticed, we're standing in the middle of a battlefield."

Vhen seemed strangely unconcerned with that. "Yes, very exciting, isn't it? Does it bother you, seeing your world in such a poor state?"

"Just because you got yourself a new homeworld does not mean that you need to disparage mine." At that moment, an explosion a couple blocks away rose up between buildings, emitting more light and ash into the air.

The quarian set his rifle down on the ledge, his hands coming together pensively while I watched the remnants of the detonation. "It's very peculiar," he said idly. "We gain a homeworld, and now you are on the cusp of losing yours. Right now, we have more than you humans do in terms of land and resources." He started to walk over to me, his eyes never taking themselves from mine. "And yet…I am not satisfied. I have more than I ever dreamed, but it is not enough. Why is that?"

"You tell me, pal. You tell me."

Vhen gave a dry chuckle, the sinister sound rasping in his throat. "Where is Nya, Sam?"

That was a good question. Where the hell _was_ she? I'd give anything to have her show up and drag me away from this tense conversation. As it was, I just gave a silent shrug to Vhen, hoping that she would arrive soon.

"I saw you two together," Vhen said. "In the camp underground."

Still I remained silent, keeping my face still so as not to give anything away that Vhen could use for verbal ammunition.

"I saw how close she was to you."

I very badly wanted to make a nasty comment on how good Vhen's eyes were, but perhaps this moment was the turning point for me learning to keep my mouth shut.

"She showed you her face, didn't she?"

He certainly cut right to the chase. There was no point in denying it; he knew just as well as I did that what he said was true. Slowly, I nodded, not wanting to elaborate more in case Vhen had no clue of what had come afterward.

But that would prove to be meaningless. Vhen's hands balled into fists and he sighed. "She slept with you," he said. It was not a question, but a declaration. It was as if he was daring me to say otherwise, knowing that he was able to deduce the nature of our relationship without anyone having told him directly.

Carefully, I spread my hands, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "This shouldn't have come as a surprise to you, Vhen. You should have known that Nya was not going to choose you, no matter how much you tried, and I'm being generous by saying 'tried.'"

The quarian gave a moan of despair and backed up a step, his knees beginning to tremble. Cautiously, I pressed my advantage, moving closer now that he was retreating. "She loves me, Vhen, and I love her too. I don't care if that makes you angry; you lost your chance the second you started treating Nya like someone who's lower class. I treated her like an equal and she responded to that instead. It was never a contest between us because the entire situation was so one-sided in my favor thanks to your attitude. If there's any maturity in you, you would simply be happy for Nya and let this whole thing go. Move on from this and learn from your mistakes. I don't want to argue about this now and certainly ever again."

Vhen sagged against the far wall, one of his hands supporting his helmet in disbelief. "I…I don't understand," he babbled. "I just don't understand it."

"Don't understand _what?_ Vhen, what don't you understand?"

"It makes no sense to me," Vhen continued to mutter aimlessly as he staggered around the nest, his eyes not focusing on anything anymore. He turned his back to me and bent down briefly. "It…just…makes…no… _SENSE!_ "

Without warning and with a ferocity that I was not expecting, Vhen whirled, a beam of rebar suddenly in his hand, plucked from the ground. The beam had a chunk of concrete on the end and it bashed into my shoulder, sending me sprawling back down the slope of bricks. I shouted in pain from the first initial impact but could only make out grunts as I tumbled end over end down the makeshift hill, suffering a multitude of bruises and superficial cuts as a result.

Coming to a halt, I groaned as I lay on my back, helpless as I watched Vhen stomp down from the nest, the rebar ditched for his pistol. I tried to fumble for my own weapon, but found the holster empty. My gun must have been dislodged from the fall. Damn it!

"You…stupid _bosh'tet_!" Vhen roared as his boots touched firm concrete. "Did I not tell you to stay away?! You never understood. You never got the hint. Did you think that I was an idiot?! Did you think that I wouldn't notice this little game that you were playing?!"

I couldn't answer because I was too banged up. All I could utter was a wheezing cough. The man was obviously deranged, his accusations too scathing and too nebulous for me to even come up with a calming answer. However, it did not seem that Vhen wanted to be calmed right now as he brandished his weapon as he continued to approach where I lay.

"You never quit," Vhen spat. "You just persisted. How could you do this to me?! Why did you have to keep surviving everything?! _You took Nya away from me!_ You _stole_ her and you have the gall to think that I would just lie down and take it?!"

"What…" I coughed. "What…are you…?"

"Even now, you _still_ are playing dumb!" the man cried in exasperation. "How?! How did you do this?! It should have ended that night. You would have been gone and then none of this would have happened! You should be _dead_ and I was stupid enough not to finish what I started earlier!"

My head lifted up off the pavement in confusion. "Wait…what night?"

"The night that I _shot_ you in that alley!" Vhen hissed, the light in his vocabulator blinking with every stressed syllable.

My head brewed with memories that spewed forth like a truck barreling through a wall. Shot. Dead. Alley. My god…it couldn't be.

"… _You were found in an alley, sir…"_

"… _had a gunshot wound to the abdomen…"_

"… _You were not in a vehicle accident…"_

"Yes," Vhen nodded evilly. "You _do_ remember, don't you?"

My hand came to my abdomen underneath my combat vest, feeling the hard knot of scar tissue just an inch below my lower rib. All along, it had been _Vhen_ who had shot me? _He_ gave me that injury that I had inexplicably woken up with? Why? I was bursting with questions, wanting to know all the details but I was too overwhelmed to even string together a coherent sentence. I started to tremble, realizing that I had not been the victim of a robbing like everyone had thought, but a deliberate murder target by this man…all because I had wronged him somehow in the past.

"Why?" I could only ask, pleading to understand.

Vhen just shook his head. "You _know_ why," he breathed. "This was all your fault. I'm not the villain here, _you_ are."

The quarian straightened with a grunt. He leveled the barrel of his pistol at me, directly at my face this time. He was obviously not taking any chances with a gut shot. This was going to be direct, instantaneous, permanent. He would finally be rid of me and maybe get lucky when comforting the grieving girlfriend. To think that there was even the possibility that he would get his grubby hands on her…

"She would have been better off with me than with you," the man growled. "Perhaps I can still correct the mistake that whore made. Her parents would have been so disappointed."

Pure, unadulterated rage surged through my veins, but it was not enough. I struggled to rise, but the wound on my shoulder where Vhen struck me throbbed angrily. I screamed in frustration, thrashing on the ground as I envisioned cracking the man's head open for his brains to spill over my fingers. Yet, I was too incapacitated to do so much as lift a finger against him. Pathetically, I crawled along the ground, desperate to escape the end. Vhen just stood over me and laughed, jovial at having the human that he hated so much desecrate himself like an animal. Fear quickly began to replace the hate. I did not want to die like this. I didn't want to leave knowing that Nya would be left alone with a maniac. He would only continue to hurt her!

A loose brick from a nearby building toppled to the ground with a clunk, barely missing Vhen. He jumped backward with a curse, scanning the foundations of the surrounding structures before pronouncing himself safe for the moment. The pistol was carefully lined up at a spot between my eyes once again, Vhen's own glowing ones slitting in sinister pleasure.

The air seemed to still and all ambient noise vanished, replaced by a reverberating roar in my ears. Even over that, I could hear the screams of someone in the background. Nya? Whoever it was, they were screaming for someone to stop, on the verge of hysterics. Vhen paid no heed, maniacally chuckling as his finger began to clench on the trigger.

He was stalling, wanting me to beg for mercy. I would give him no such satisfaction. My lips pursed and I spat on his feet, hoping that my final look would haunt him for the rest of his days. The man shook his boot and snarled, angered beyond all rational thought.

Despite the increasing volumes of the shrieks, Vhen finally followed through with his action. At this range, it was impossible for him to miss.

There was a burst of light, a sharp bang, and a final spurt of blood that I saw arcing away from my face. Everything went dark after that.

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter (if there even is going to _be_ a next chapter, heh) will probably take a while for me to write, so please don't start to riot after more than a week of me not submitting anything. Just leave the pitchforks where they are, thank you.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I would like to hear any comments you might have, just so long as they aren't nasty comments.**


	23. Chapter 23: Glitch Incarnate

White. A sea of white. That was all I could witness at the moment; just an empty void, utterly clear of any other objects in sight.

This was slightly weird.

No…I was not in a void, as it turned out. It was just light hitting my eyes, causing my surroundings to be drowned out from the brilliant illumination. The light was so intense it seared through my eyelids right down to the corneas. They _burned_. I had to blink my eyes several times in addition to throwing up a hand in order to ward off the sudden glare in my eyes. Funny, I could have sworn that everything had cut to black just a second before. Why was my entire world so bright now?

Oh, wait a minute. Maybe this was finally the end. I just remembered. I got shot… _again_.

I now vividly recalled that two-faced, quarian bastard Vhen sticking the barrel of his gun into my face and that I watched a plume of flame explode through the muzzle before a bullet smashed into my head. That, and the gout of blood that had streamed away from my face as my skull was shattered at close range was kind of hard to miss, or forget for that matter.

So, I was now presumably dead, for the second time, and that this must be that oft-mentioned "light at the end of the tunnel" that so many people claim we experience when we die. I had been here once before, but that had turned out to be just a ruse which had landed me somewhere completely different. I guess I had finally made it to the point where I could be admitted into the big house in the sky now, having perhaps fulfilled some hidden conditions that allow acceptance to the afterlife.

Of all the fucking luck.

But…no, something was different. The light was fading. Instead of a completely white void, I could start to make out vague outlines of shadowy objects hidden amongst the glare. This place had depth to it. Still holding up my hand to protect my eyes, I tentatively walked forward, uncertain of where I was, only for my foot to tread on something springy. Like…grass? What the hell was this? After all, the last thing that I remembered was lying on the cracked ground in London during one of the worst wars on Earth. There was certainly no areas of grass to be found in that immediate vicinity. Now…I was here, wherever here was. Might as well try to find some answers, since I was in this place to begin with and had no idea how long I was due to stay here.

"Nya!" I called out, hoping for a reply. "Nya, are you here?"

No answer. Shit.

I wondered that if I had gone through that dog-and-pony act of jumping into a different world again. That would be a total disaster, in my opinion, because I had just been starting to get used to the idea of being in the Mass Effect world and had even gone so far to become romantically involved with another person there, that to be uprooted at this moment in time was probably the worst thing that could have happened to me at this point. I felt like screaming, honestly.

"Nya…" my voice caught in my throat, the image of a gray alien beaming at me with love firmly implanting itself in my brain. "Jesus…Nya…"

Did I just lose out on my opportunity to spend more time with her? No…that was so unfair! Why did I have to die and leave her all alone back there?! _Why was I always the unlucky one?!_

Before I could verbally announce my displeasure in the form of a guttural outcry, my eyes adjusted enough to the light to make out my surroundings, finally. The first thing that I noticed was the sound of waves breaking. When did I get to be near an ocean? The second thing was the scuffling sound of small stones on gravel, brought on from my shoes rubbing them down into the surface, having traversed off of the soft vegetation.

There was another thing that I just now noticed as my sight began to gradually return: I was dressed differently than I was back in London. My combat vest and all my clothes that I had been wearing were gone. In their place, I had donned jeans and a comfortable black shirt, nothing too flashy. Just something casual for going out, very much something like I used to wear back when I lived on the shores of the Pacific. Speaking of which…

I recognized this place! The more I could make out, the more familiar it was to me. This was the sidewalk that ran parallel to Monterrey Bay in the park near the marine reserve. The rocky peninsula of Lover's Point was just to my right, with the orange sun beginning to set in the west, casting a hazy glow over everything. I used to hang out here with my friends and shoot the shit with them years ago. It was a touristy spot, yes, but hanging out near the bay when we were kids was probably one of the most fun things we did as a group – just hanging out and talking.

Speaking of tourists, I had become so used to seeing this place completely crowded during my youth that it took me a while to realize that the park was completely empty. And not just the park, the streets were devoid of life as well. Not a single pedestrian, biker, or even car was taking up space on the various sidewalks or roads situated behind me, heading into the populous town of Monterrey.

What the hell was going on here?

Now very confused, I started to slow my pace a bit. The salty air blew into my face, cooling me from the summer heat. The pounding of waves on rocks and the cries of seagulls drowned out any other signs of human life, if it even existed right about now. The town looked lived in, except that there were no people to be found. Had I been transported into some horrible shell of what remained of humanity – a blank slate for me to populate by myself as some form of punishment? Was I doomed to wander this wasteland, alone?

No! I was not supposed to be alone anymore! I had Nya! Nya was supposed to be with me! How could I be so unlucky to find happiness in the arms of another only to lose it from the spiteful hands of another?! Why could I never catch a goddamn break?!

Suddenly, I felt faint and woozy on my feet, so I bustled over to the nearest bench overlooking the bay to catch my breath. I collapsed onto it, clutching my stomach, grateful for the reprieve. The dizziness soon passed and I was left watching the undulating waves of the ocean while the sun continued to set. It was eerie just listening to the sounds of nature while civilization, usually a cacophony, was silent around me. No honks from cars, barks from dogs, or gleeful shouts from surfers definitely gave this place a lifeless feeling to it. It was almost like I was in…nah, I couldn't be. Could I?

Could this possibly be…?

"What, not even a 'hello' from my little brother?" A voice that I had known from the past unexpectedly burst out, startling me.

I jumped up from the bench, my previous dizziness forgotten. That voice, the aura from the presence. Impossible…surely not… That person was gone.

But then again, my life was just a series of the impossible being achieved around me, albeit unintentionally.

Either I had been completely blind when choosing the bench for a seat, not knowing that the other side had been occupied, or other forces were at work here. The latter certainly was a good indicator for how crazy the turns my life had taken, as evident by the sight my dead sister, now inexplicably full of life, smiling at me from her seat.

She had gotten older, to my surprise. No longer was she the youthful eighteen-year old that I had known before she had died, but she had aged rather gracefully as someone approaching their early thirties. Still striking, still beautiful.

"It…can't be…" I shook my head in disbelief. " _Taylor?_ "

"Well, who else did you expect, you dork?" the woman on the bench laughed heartily before she stood up. "You not going to give me a hug? Am I just chopped liver to you?"

It was not like I could refuse as I was too scatterbrained to resist. Taylor simply stepped up to me and gave a great bear hug, very much her style. My own arms just wrapped around my sister of their own accord, holding onto her very lightly as if I squeezed too tight, she could dissipate into thin air just as suddenly as she had appeared before me.

"How is this even possible?" I whispered before caution took over, sending a jolt tingling down my spine. It was like everything I knew was all lies. I was hopelessly confused by the very real sensation of a warm body enveloping me but I mustered enough willpower to break away and took a few steps from my sister, shock beginning to envelop me once more. "You can't be here, Taylor. You've been dead for years."

"Only from a certain perspective," Taylor smiled sadly.

My lips felt dry and the logical portion of my brain finally clicked on, no longer hanging in the background. "You're not Taylor," I scowled. "This can't be happening. Taylor died when I was in high school. You should not even exist right now!"

The sweet expression of my sister momentarily ran cold, her eyes never leaving mine. "This was deemed to make this easier for you."

" _Easier_ for me? What is th-?" Something inside me turned to ice and my face locked into a mask of despair. "I'm dead now, aren't I?" I mumbled. "That's what this is, isn't it?"

Taylor's warm face fell, which was the only answer I needed.

"Oh Jesus," I let out a sob as I ran a hand through my hair in wonder. "I really _am_ dead. That explains why you're here. My god. What…the…fuck…happened to me?!"

Taylor just gave a very unhelpful shrug, ignoring my scathing tone and accusatory finger pointed in her direction. "What happened to you is what happens to everyone in due time. As to your first question, in a sense…yes, you are dead." Noting my crestfallen face, she added, "In another sense…no, you are still very much alive."

"I…don't understand."

"Then sit down for a bit and I'll explain it for you. It's not like we're particularly short of time right now."

My sister sat back down on the bench and patted the spot next to her, almost like she had been expecting me to park myself beside her, having planned everything out beforehand. Wait, why was I still referring to her as Taylor? This… _thing_ was not my sister. What kind of hallucinogenic trip was I experiencing to make this sort of encounter feel so visceral? But if Taylor was dead…then who was sitting beside me right now?

After a moment's hesitation, I took "Taylor" up on her offer to sit but I deliberately lowered myself a couple inches away from where Taylor had previously indicated, still uncertain at what the hell was going on. Swiveling my head, still searching for signs of life not directly near me, I was becoming increasingly concerned at my predicament. Taylor, fortunately, seemed to take note of my distress rather quickly and held up a hand before I could spout off a series of fast-paced questions and flood her with my wonder.

"First of all," she said smoothly, "you're not in hell. You're not in heaven either. Forget about any concepts of the afterlife that all religions have endorsed right now. As of this moment, you are neither alive…nor dead."

Flabbergasted, my jaw opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. "How did you know what I was going to ask?"

Again, Taylor shrugged nonchalantly. "I know you better than anyone else, Sam. I don't need to read your mind to know how your thought process works."

"You can read my mind?" I blurted out before I even knew what I had just asked. I mentally slapped myself. Idiot, why did I even ask that? Do I even know how stupid that sounded?

Then again, I _was_ talking to my previously-dead-but-alive-again sister. Perhaps some slack could be afforded to me.

"No need to read anything. Your story has been told to me countless times. It changes slightly each time, but the premise follows the same path."

My confusion was being replaced by indignation as I realized that still none of my questions had been answered. What the hell was the point of _that_ comment? And seriously, _what the hell is going on?_

"Stop speaking in _fucking_ riddles," I practically growled out through tightly clenched teeth, already fed up with the teasing dialogue. "I don't give a shit if I'm in heaven, hell, purgatory, or wherever! Don't play games with me, Taylor, and tell me that I may or may not be dead. You know as well as I do, if you purport to know how I think, that what you've been giving me so far is complete crap. Give me something substantial or I'm walking away. I want the next words out of your mouth to actually be helpful for a change and not useless drabble, okay?"

"-And if you would have let me finish, I would have gotten around to that," Taylor continued without missing a beat, her eyebrows arcing upward in interest. She bent down to pick up a fistful of sand piled next to the sidewalk, blown away from the beach, and lifted it up. The golden grit streamed through the cracks in her fist, leaving gentle trails as the wind caught some of the stray particulates. "Perhaps it will be better if I show you first. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words."

With that, she threw the handful of sand into the air, but to my astonishment, the sand did not blow away in a stinging and gritty spray or fall back down to earth. Rather, the sand stayed elevated in the air, millions of particles glinting in the air from the dying sun. I could not have considered such a simple object such as sand breaking all the rules of physics as we knew it and it was not like there was any technology positioned around us that could cause matter to be suspended in mid-air. Yet it was hard to argue with what I could see with my own two eyes.

"Okay, either I'm dreaming or just heavily drugged," I mumbled as I raised a hand to touch the hovering sand. My fingers passed through the grit, leaving clear trails in my wake. Nope, no trick. That sand was definitely hanging in the air. Was the gravity broken in this little slice of hell/purgatory?

Meanwhile, Taylor seemed to enjoy noting my array of astonished expressions. "Nope, no dream, Sam. No drugs involved, either. This place is simply an offshoot of your consciousness where everything can be consolidated for you, which means bending some established laws of the universe from time to time in order to make proper analogies. Besides, the mind has the ability to make anything possible."

"This is only becoming more and more confusing. What are you, some kind of deus ex machina? Come to judge me for my past deeds or to explain that I need to draw on the power of love - or some shit like that - to get what I want?"

Taylor just laughed at that. "I'm no god, if that's what you're referring to. But there _is_ a kind of cosmic machine that overhangs over all our lives, if you take the meaning literally. To be frank, all of what you're seeing right now, including me, is simply a manifestation created by _you_."

That gave me a start. "Me? How can I be manifesting this if I have no clue how I'm controlling any of it?"

"Think about it," Taylor arced an eyebrow. "We're here in the place that was significant in your childhood – a memory from long ago."

"The beach in Monterrey."

"Yes, Monterrey. It held some significance to you before, did it not? Let's just say that it's not entirely a coincidence why we happen to be in this location right now. Your consciousness just drew this location due to its soothing nature and fond memories of being here with your friends. Those events created a kind of waypoint for your consciousness to draw on, thus explaining your involvement in the manifestation of this realm."

"But wait…I'm _dead_. If I'm dead, how can my consciousness be manipulating all this? Shouldn't I be…you know…dead?"

"Ah," Taylor waggled a finger. "But what you don't realize is that your consciousness is not entirely limited just one physical form. That is part of the reason why I'm here right now, to serve as your avatar."

"Avatar?"

"A kind of caretaker that resides in your mind, completely separate from your consciousness that exists to provide perspective should you ever need it. Put simply, your consciousness selected me because I made the biggest impact to you over your entire life on average. If you had connected with anyone else more strongly and over a longer period of time, they probably would take the place that I'm inhabiting now. I'm just here because you want me here."

"…Because I want _you_ here? But…I would rather Nya be here with me."

"Oh, already dumped me for some other girl, is that it?" Taylor gave me a light punch on the arm, her words scathing but her face beaming. "I'm just messing with you. Actually, I'm very happy for you, Sam. You really beat the odds with that one and I'm just glad that you found someone who makes you cheerful again, much like the Sam I used to know back during the good old days."

I sighed, not in the least bit assuaged from Taylor's support and I crossed my arms angrily. "Made. Past tense. She _made_ me happy. I'm dead now, so she can't exactly continue to make me happy anymore, can she?"

"Oho!" Taylor exclaimed. "A little defeatist, don't you say? Didn't I just tell you that you weren't dead?"

"You also said that I wasn't alive, either. I might also point out that you still have not gone into any explicit detail concerning what state of life I currently happen to be inhabiting!"

"Hence why I threw this cloud of sand up into the air before you interrupted me again," Taylor pointed out to the reality-bending sight still hovering between us. "I thought that a visual analogy could help explain things a bit better."

The sand had not ceased in sparkling, both from the sun and the reflection of the light writhing off the waves of the ocean. It still remained up in the air, a glassy cloud, a rough substance that managed to shine under the right circumstances. I tilted my head to see if I could get what Taylor was referring to before she said it, but I had no context to form a hypothesis of any sort.

"So…" I made a futile gesture to relay my cluelessness. "Sand as an analogy?"

"Kind of look like stars, don't they?" Taylor pointed to a few errant sparkles, emphasizing individual glints as they tumbled helplessly in their vacuum.

"A _model_ ," I realized. "A model of the universe?"

"Now you're getting it," Taylor beamed. She then spread her arms at the sparkling cloud before us. "Rather apt, if I say so myself. So what if I told you that although the sand here could be used as an analogy for the universe – a seemingly scattered, chaotic collection of all forms of matter – that it could also be used as an analogy for the _multiverse_?"

"The multiverse?" I repeated, mostly to hear the word come from my mouth. "You mean like an infinite set of possible universes that encompass all we know? Like multiple dimensions and all that crap?"

"Space, time, matter, energy, and all physical laws and constraints," Taylor leaned back with a knowing smile. "A universe contains a lot of stuff, but the multiverse contains and dictates the laws of _time_ itself, the biggest distinction. The multiverse comprises everything you could possibly imagine, but like all the universes, it is bound by its own set of rules. The way it is arranged, it is the product of deliberate natural planning. It is simply the way things are…and the way things will continue to be long after we're gone."

Most likely, had this conversation taken place a few years earlier, I probably would have responded with more disbelief and venom in my voice. But by now, I was a man who flew amongst the stars and found companionship on distant worlds. In contrast, this sort of talk was not the most polarizing topic that I had come across thus far. Still, that did not prevent me from snorting in derision.

"I see where this is going," I said in a monotone.

"Well, you're smart. I figured that you could figure it out," Taylor shrugged.

"Is that supposed to be condescending?"

"Not at all!" Taylor said honestly. "I just want to know what you think is going on."

"You used the model as a deliberate way to introduce the concept of universe organization. Why else would you bring it up? I'm hoping you have a good explanation for this because what you're suggesting is impossible."

"Still believe that things are impossible, eh?" Taylor smirked.

"You're implying that somehow, I managed to jump over from one universe to the next when I died the first time. Somehow, by ramming my car into a light pole, I was whisked away from my universe in 2015 America, into the far future universe of Mass Effect. It makes sense, since you pointed out that in this 'multiverse' time has no meaning as it presumably spans more than four dimensions. Okay, Taylor, I'll play along. But how in the name of Christ did this come to happen? Unless dying and waking up in a different universe is per the norm for all people that bite the bullet?"

Taylor's smile just widened. She knew that she had me despite my skepticism – hook, line, and sinker. "You're partially right there, little brother. As they say: half credit for you. The thing about the multiverse is that it governs matter and concepts that can be bound by strict rules, namely mathematics. It has difficulty with the rather complicated concept of life, which is, by its very nature, unpredictable. I mean, how does life even come to be, anyway? It's just a collection of cells that have the ability to respond to stimuli. And even then, it gets a bit dense. Life is not limited to any set number of cells to create an organism – it varies from species to species. We grow, we learn, that is something that cannot be quantified, cannot be predicted. In the grand scheme of things, we, as living organisms, are nothing compared to the universe that surrounds us, but as _individuals_ we are just as complex as the universes that comprise us."

"I see…" I said, even though I really did not see.

"It's our _consciousness_ that endures," Taylor continued. "Our _soul_ , if you want to put a spiritual spin on it. If it cannot be governed, the thing that makes us who we are, then it is the natural tendency of the consciousness to remain attached to its owner, thereby continuing to make you… _you_."

"So you're saying that if – no, _when_ – I die, I may die in that universe but I'll really just be born again in a different universe?"

Taylor clapped her hands in excitement. "You hit the nail on the head!"

"But…but why?"

"It's called the quantum immortality theory," Taylor explained. "The theory being that if you die, your consciousness simply moves into another body in another universe and starts the beginning of your life all over again. It has to do with the parallel universes that operate in close proximity to yours, thereby easing the theoretical transition from one life to the next. You die, and in the next moment you gain sentience sometime in your fetal stage, having lost all your memories from your past life."

"Wait a minute!" I interjected. "None of that happened to me at all! I certainly did not start my life back at the beginning when I entered the Mass Effect universe. How can you explain that?"

"Just a few more moments and all will be clear," Taylor said patiently. "I need to explain this to you some more because I don't think you fully understand the magnitude of what forces are at work here."

I leaned back on the bench and sighed obnoxiously. "And what, pray tell, might those forces be?"

Taylor now looked pensive as she tilted her head skyward, taking her time to compose her thoughts. "Let's say, for instance, you happen to die in the year 2015, doesn't matter how. What would typically happen is that in the next measurable moment of existence, you would suddenly come into life into another universe, only this time your life would begin at the exact time you had died in the previous universe, comparatively speaking. You could be placed in the year 1420 for all I know, but you would be placed into a universe succeeding the previous one in terms of how time flows. Time is relative, is what I'm trying to say, which means that you could be placed into the relative past or future from where you last were. In any scenario, you would then inhabit a universe where you had never existed to begin with. That's the thing with the multiverse. It may be random but the universe clusters are grouped in accordance with how time is perceived."

A thought hit me and my mouth went dry. "And…theoretically, there could be an uncountable number of universes out there with me in them?"

"Precisely. You are just one out of an infinite number of Sams that exist, have existed, and will exist all at the same time. But each universe features a Sam that goes through life in a different way. The differences could be made up of you choosing another college to go to school, a different occupation or something like that. Pretty much, there is a universe for each and every action you make. No universe features the same exact arc."

"How slight can these differences be?"

"A good question. For example, imagine that you're sitting at your kitchen table, right? You have a bowl of cereal in front of you and a spoon to the left of that bowl. Let's say that at a specific point in that timeline, you move your arm to pick up that spoon. On the other hand, there is another universe where you choose _not_ to pick up that spoon at that point, perhaps hesitating a second longer or holding off on the action completely. You guessed it, for every single conceivable action that you perform, no matter how miniscule, there is another universe that features you doing something different. Heck, it could even go to the point where there are no other differences between that first universe besides the one in which you pick up the spoon earlier and the one where you pick up the spoon at a later time. The only difference between those two universes could be that one simple action – that's all it takes to create a completely separate timeline apart from your own."

"Jesus," I moaned as I held my head in my hands, furiously rubbing at my head in the hopes that it would help everything start to sink in. "It's…it's a lot to take in. The sheer amount of insignificant choices just branching off into different universes could be…could be…"

"More than the human mind could imagine," Taylor sat back proudly. "Apparently the number is so large that imagining it would theoretically create a black hole, if it was possible, mind you. Divide by zero, you know what I mean? The first rule of quantum mechanics is that no one understands quantum mechanics. Your mind – and pretty much the mind of every human out there – simply cannot comprehend the sheer scale of how diverse the multiverse actually is. You start to comprehend all of the paths and find out that you can imagine infinite possibilities just from small-scale choices and already you start to go insane. What about the choices with more impact? The ones that can define a person significantly? The ability for you to visualize this is impossible, I'm afraid, which is why this sand model here is pathetically low-tech, limited from our ability to conceptualize things clearly."

"Is it a perfect model, this multiverse?"

"Absolutely not," Taylor snorted. "Which is why you're here to begin with. Like any model, the more variables there are, the more likely problems will arise. Kind of like an operating system of a computer – there are bound to be bugs, but the correlation between the number of bugs is directly tied to how complex the system actually is. Which is why, in the multiverse, there exist a number of Errors in the system, technically an infinite number, but comparatively low when you take into account the enormity of the system in place."

Adjusting my posture, I blinked. "So what exactly constitutes one of these Errors? Is it just a description for whenever something goes wrong in the system, like a blue screen of death?"

"Pretty much. An Error can take the form of many things, but for your sake, I'm just going to keep the description localized to your situation since you happen to embody one of these Errors. After all, it was what you first experienced when you got into this mix-up in the first place."

"But why did this Error happen?" I was practically on the edge of my seat at this point, eager to hear more now that my interest had been sufficiently piqued. At least Taylor was no longer speaking cryptically anymore and I was now beginning to understand why she had used all of these analogies in the first place. She needed the buildup to dumb down the concept to my level – not in a condescending manner, but to help make sure that I would be able to understand. I deserved to know the truth, at the very least.

"Remember when I was telling you that the multiverse has difficulty with governing our consciousness?" Taylor asked as she leaned forward. "A very common Error that occurs is during the transition phase from when you die and move on to the next universe. However, a known scenario that causes an Error happens when another 'Sam' dies at that same exact moment in another parallel universe, one that is positioned rather close to the previous universe in the multiverse web. Sometimes the multiverse cannot distinguish between the two Sams dying at the same time, as in the both of you have to die at the exact moment right down to a unit smaller than a nanosecond, which sometimes results in your destinations getting mixed up between your universes in close proximity, thus sending the both of you into the wrong era. Additionally, because the transition between universes got all screwed up to begin with, your previous memories were not erased which is why you were able to remember your past life in 2015 once you woke up in that version of 2182."

"So presumably, there's another me from 2182 wandering around 2015 wondering how he got sent back in time, right? Wow, I'd hate to be him right about now." Tapping my finger on my knees, I looked out to sea pensively. "So why Mass Effect? Is there just a universe that contains any franchise out there that our minds can think up?"

"The extent of imagination," Taylor said. "Anything can and will happen in the context of infinite time and space. I would be lying if I said that the prospect of a Star Wars universe, a Lord of the Rings universe, or even that universe with all of those hippie blue aliens did not exist."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"No, I am most assuredly _not_ shitting you."

"Well…damn," I muttered, simultaneously dumbstruck and impressed. Hard to believe that if the cosmic dice had been rolled differently, I could have been wielding a lightsaber somewhere instead of being deposited in this universe. What a fiction this was turning out to be. Something then occurred to me and I rubbed my jaw in thought. "That man…" I murmured. "The man from that restaurant…"

"What about him?"

Excitedly, I turned to Taylor, my hands furiously gesturing. "When I was on the Citadel, there was a man who held up a restaurant that I was in. He was ranting, saying things like he was not supposed to be there. In that time, specifically. He mentioned that he thought it was the year 2013 or something. Was he another Error or was he just ill in the head?"

"Ah," Taylor made an uncomfortable face. "That. In that case, yes, he was an Error."

"Son of a bitch," I leaned back on the bench, exhausted. It was so appalling at how it all made sense so easily now.

"What you have to understand is that some people don't take their transition as easily as you did. Some crack from the pressure. In that case, that man most likely went insane from just how foreign his surrounding environment was and resorted to crime in order to evoke feelings of control." Taylor shrugged carelessly. "In the end, his Error was resolved. He was not fit for that universe anyway so it made little difference in the long run."

"Then that's how an Error gets resolved? By dying?"

Taylor lifted a hand. "If you die then your existence is extinguished. You can no longer make any impact where you ended up. The equation all balances itself out eventually. All it needs is time."

"Heh," I gave a mirthless chuckle. "Time. That's something that I wish I had more of. More time to spend with Nya instead of dying at the hands of…" I stopped for a moment, a word forming on my lips momentarily but there was no air to give it voice. " _Vhen_ ," I murmured.

"What's that?" Taylor tilted her head.

"Vhen said that he was the one who shot me, the one who put me in that hospital in the first place." I then looked at Taylor expectantly. " _He_ helped cause all this…but why? Why did he try to kill me? What did the other me do to make him hate me so much?"

My sister's expression darkened for but a moment before she reached into her pocket and pulled out a device. It looked like a cellular phone, much like the ones that were quite popular back in 2015. I must admit, it was odd to see such a piece of technology that was so familiar, but so archaic compared to what I had been surrounded with at the time. Breaking character, she said nothing as she handed the phone to me. As soon as I touched the device, it booted up with a ping and a video began to fill the screen.

"What is this?" I asked, gesturing with the phone.

"CCTV footage," she responded. "Just watch. It's not a long clip."

I had to squint slightly to make out the images on the screen, since I was used to the higher definition panels provided by omni-tools for years. Once my eyes had adjusted, it was impossible for me to not witness…well, myself sitting at a table at a bar. The establishment itself was unrecognizable, but that was certainly me sitting at that counter. The camera was positioned in the corner looking down at an angle in my direction. The timestamp in the corner of the footage indicated that the year was 2182 and since I had no recollection of going to a bar such as this during that time, I could only garner that this was the Sam whose body I had replaced, which explained why I was unable to recollect this date. How this video was in my hands so that I was able to watch it was a mystery but I figured that asking would just raise further questions. I let that tidbit be.

The video was just an image, no audio, as most CCTV feeds tend to be. For half a minute the footage was unremarkable; just me sitting down on a stool downing drinks like anyone at a bar would be doing. Nothing special. Still, it was odd to watch another me perform these actions, knowing that "I" had not been the one consciously performing them.

After a minute had passed of nothing but the other Sam just sipping at his drink and making small talk with the bartender, a person suddenly walked into the frame and sat down next to me – the other Sam, that is. Already, even though the picture was fuzzy and monochrome in some areas, I still knew right off the bat that the person that had just sat down was someone that I knew very well. I could never forget the design of that snug enviro-suit. How remarkable it was that we happened to run into each other during unexpected times.

Nya.

"She was there…" I whispered, my fingers gently tracing the curves of her body on the screen.

Nya and the other Sam did not appear to be sharing words between them. Obviously that was when the two of us had never really officially met yet, so it made sense. Still, I was disappointed to see that the me on the screen occasionally began to edge away from Nya every few seconds, like he was disgusted that a quarian was sitting next to him.

For whatever reason, I wanted to slug that prick in the face.

While Nya looked to be ordering drinks, the other Sam ignoring her, it quickly became obvious that there was some sort of commotion that was occurring off screen, drawing the attention of the customers. Without warning, a full on brawl between a human and a turian quickly barreled into view, two drunk patrons smashing onto the counter in the hopes of beating the crap out of the other. The rest of the frequenters leapt off their seats, not keen on getting involved in a fight, but the Sam on the screen was rather hesitant in abandoning his drink. When the brawlers began to exchange blows closer to where he was sitting, the other Sam began to leave the booth, but apparently decided on taking action as he looked to be annoyed at the potential of losing his spot. So, in that moment, he wound his arm back to hit one of the fighters senseless (apparently this Sam was more quick to launch himself into fisticuffs than I was) but in the process, his elbow bent so far back and so quickly that he clobbered poor Nya on the side of the head, knocking her completely off her chair and onto the floor, never even seeing the blow coming.

As the Sam on the screen proceeded to completely throw himself into the fight and dominate the contestants, another quarian hurried over to help the stricken Nya back on her feet. Vhen, based on the subtle differences in his suit pattern. Trying to be the white knight at the right moment, I suppose.

In the next few moments, the Sam that was not me had quickly ended the fight but looked to be so ticked off from fighting, his adrenaline raised, that he simply strode towards the exit in a fury, even forgetting to apologize to the quarian that he had accidentally hit. Nya was clutching her head in pain, not even knowing what had happened, but Vhen had been glaring at that Sam the entire time. He most certainly saw his face – _my_ face – and I could tell, even on this crappy phone, that his eyes were slanted in the most pure expression of hate.

He had seen it happen. Vhen saw me strike her and not offer assistance afterward. In that moment, his opinion of me had been sealed. If I appeared to care so little for a quarian, what other redeeming qualities could I possibly have?

The picture on the tiny phone then changed to what appeared to be an alley outside of the bar in question. The other Sam walked into view, hands in his pockets, without a care in the world when something caused him to turn around in surprise. Perhaps a shout from someone out of frame? I saw myself turn in apprehension, giving barely a sign of surprise as he waited for someone to catch up to him.

It would prove to be a fatal mistake.

Everything quickly ended in a flash as I saw Vhen angrily storm up to that Sam, jam a pistol into his stomach and pull the trigger. My doppelganger fell, his mouth open in a silent cry, blood pouring from a hole in his abdomen. Vhen stood over him, his head swiveling in all directions, knowing that the noise could attract a host of unwelcome company, before he stooped down and removed my credit chit from my pants. Huh, so that's where it had gone to. Quickly, before the cops came running, Vhen booked it further down the alley, leaving the Sam on the ground to presumably bleed out.

The video closed on the phone after spending a few seconds gazing impassively at my splayed body and I numbly handed the device back to Taylor, who pocketed it silently. I just stared out into space for a moment, watching the waves in the bay splash down onto the beaches, churning up sand in their wake.

"If Vhen only knew the truth," I said forlornly. "I never had any intention of hurting her. I would not have consciously done that!"

"But there turned out to be a lot that he did not know," Taylor pointed out. "Vhen could not have anticipated the fact that, although he may have killed you in that universe, it simply led to you taking over his body in another, similar universe, leading towards you and Nya meeting under much better circumstances."

"But still…to find out that he was the one who killed me…twice, as a matter of fact...I had no idea that was why he hated me from the start. He thought that he had killed me earlier for striking Nya, something _I_ never actually did! I simply thought he was just prejudiced against humans but in reality he thought that I would deliberately hurt Nya because of that one incident. It turned out that I…was just like everyone else. I thought of the quarians as people who were lower than me."

"That was _another_ you," Taylor soothed. "That Sam was an asshole. _You_ aren't. You proved it to Nya that you were a decent person, but Vhen still failed to see the good in you, despite the evidence shown. He could not comprehend that what happened earlier might have been an accident, but he was too jealous and hot-headed to see reason. Heck, he probably thought that you recognized him all this time as being the one who originally shot you and were simply toying with him."

I gave a scathing laugh. "I'll say. His first response in meeting was to walk right up to me in the middle of an alley and shoot me. _Before_ taking my credit chit to make it all look like a robbery. That miserable prick, if I could only get my hands around his neck…"

"You just might be able to," Taylor offered.

My breathing escalated. "What do you mean?"

Taylor stood up from the bench and I dutifully repeated her actions. "What I mean," Taylor said deliberately, "is that you still have a chance to return home. To see Nya again. To be blunt, there is now a universe where she is crying over your lifeless body, but you have a chance to alter that outcome in another universe – a chance that you will never get again. Unless, if that is not what you want…"

" _Don't_ ," I threatened as I pointed a finger at my sister sternly. "Stop tormenting me by telling me that Nya is miserable. Fuck you for doing that, Taylor. I love her and I want her to be happy. Being around me makes her happy. Do not even assume that I would want to be away from her. I pushed away everyone else in my miserable life. I'm _not_ going to do that to her!"

"Sam," Taylor put a hand on my shoulder, brushing off my rudeness. "That's exactly what I needed to hear. Come with me."

Taylor then strode across the stone path towards the barrier that blocked pedestrians from getting too close to the ledge where the continent met the sea. Without a second thought, Taylor hopped the fence, gesturing for me to follow. With a shrug, I complied, wondering exactly what my sister had in mind as we clambered around the rocks, making our way towards the cliff ledge, the water frothing angrily just feet away.

"You said I could get back," I called after Taylor. "How?"

She turned around with a knowing grin. "Sam, I told you that this entire place is simply a manifestation that your consciousness conjured up in order for you to understand the truth. Every time there is an Error, the consciousness reaches outside of itself in order to bring forth understanding. What you are experiencing now is no different than what anyone who experienced an Error has been through."

"So?"

"So now you know the truth. You aren't meant to stay in this place forever and now that your Error has been resolved, it's time for you to go back."

"But…since I just died, shouldn't I be going back to my own universe? Back to the year 2015 or whatever it was when I left?"

"Of course not," Taylor shook her head. "That would just mean that you experienced another Error again. You see, you cannot change your course anymore. The universe that you last inhabited, this quadrant of parallel realities - the _Mass Effect_ universe, is now the path that you must walk. How it will work is that you will be placed in a similar parallel universe at about the same time from which you left, one whose outcome will be slightly different from the one in which you were killed in. The effect will be favorable to you and you will get another chance, but that will be the only change that will have occurred between the two timelines. Nothing else will be different and you will have the opportunity to be with Nya again."

"You're saying that another universe will be created for me just before the moment in which Vhen kills me? Damn, I'm going to have to hope that his aim is a little bit worse upon reentry."

"You will get your chance," Taylor prodded my chest. "But you will have to act quickly if you want to survive. If you die in this universe, you will start back from zero once again. You have a second chance, there will not be a third."

"Will I remember any of this?"

"Well, yes," Taylor answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I know what you're thinking. It won't matter if you remember this or not because if you try to tell anyone about your recent 'out-of-body-experience,' who will believe you?"

"Good point."

Now that we were closer to the sea, the waves continued to smash against the breakers, impassive to the two people having a conversation just meters away. The spray splashed into my eyes, the salt momentarily stinging me and I did my best to wipe the water away. Blinking my eyes clear, I had just enough time to watch as my sister stepped up to me and gave me one last hug. I was surprised but I returned the gesture, trying to focus on just how _real_ she felt to me. All my senses were operating normally, yet this was all some elaborate illusion. If this was all happening inside my mind, how could everything appear to be so real?

"I really missed you," Taylor sighed. "It was so good to see you again, Sam."

I said nothing, but started to run my fingers along the back of my sister's shirt. I noted that, standing side by side, I was a few inches taller than her now. I had never been taller than my sister before and for some reason, I found that sad. She never had her chance to grow up fully before she had gone.

"What happens now?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Now?" Taylor looked up at me. A remorseful look passed in a fleeting moment across her face. It should have alerted me then and there that something was up, but as usual, I was too dense to pick up on it immediately. Even as Taylor broke away from me and began to eye the sea and the ledge, it still had not occurred to me that she had a crafty plan.

I raised an eyebrow as a sheepish grin began to spread across Taylor's face. Squinting in apprehension, I maneuvered to the side so that I placed my back perpendicular to the ledge so that I could be directly in front of my sister. In hindsight, that was a mistake.

"I…uh," Taylor scratched the back of her head nervously. "I suppose that I should say that I'm sorry."

My face screwed up in confusion and I did a double-take. "Sorry? What the hell could you possibly be sorry for?"

"This," she said and abruptly threw her arms out, catching me full on in the chest. There was nowhere else for me to fall and I tumbled off the cliff, falling from her savage push.

My mouth was open in a dumbfounded look as I fell towards the churning water below, foaming white from the constant tidal movement. There was that sensation of weightlessness again. Throughout this split-second moment that I hurtled towards the sea, I could not help but feel regretful that I did not get to say anything meaningful to my sister as sort of a final goodbye. It would have helped had I known about this development beforehand. Hell, I would have happily taken the plunge myself after giving a final acknowledgement. Perhaps I still had time.

" _You bitch!_ " I shouted as I was less than a second away from impact.

Oh, Sam. You old romantic, you.

There was a quick instant of resistance as my back hit liquid hard. Then everything exploded white and I felt nothing anymore.

* * *

This transition had been easier than the first, but by no means less painful. Air rushed into my lungs, flooding me like I had been suspended in a vacuum just seconds previously. My skin itched, feeling sunburned, and there was a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Blackness was my world now, blind to everything around me as my senses started to dull from their hyper-sensitivity.

"This was all your fault!" a most unwelcome voice burst through the static. "I'm not the villain here, you are."

I realized that my eyes had been firmly clenched shut. Timidly, I forced my eyelid muscles to open, bringing into view what had to be a terrifying sight for most people, but for as brief of a moment as it was possible to imagine, I was relieved.

No longer were the rays of the sun on my face. No longer was I wearing comfortable clothing while the soothing sounds of the ocean beat against the shore in its tidal tempo. Now, the chilling night nipped at me with icy gusts of wind. The straps of my combat vest tore into my shoulders, chafing the skin there. Distant explosions boomed and popped in the distance, causing flashes of light to appear among the overcast sky that hung over the war-torn city like a blanket.

And directly in front of me, the irate Vhen had his pistol leveled directly towards my face. Yeah, definitely more direct than a gut shot, I can certainly attest.

"She would have been better off with me than with you," Vhen seethed, his repeated final words all starting to come back to me. "Perhaps I can still correct the mistake that wh-,"

"Oh, just shut up and get on with it!" I snarled, not wanting to hear the despicable word be uttered from that man's mouth. I surprised myself with the venom that had boiled up from within me so quickly, now that I knew that this bastard killed me twice. I'll be damned if there was going to be a third time. "Come on, little man. You going to talk or day or are you going to shoot me?" Vhen tilted his head, appalled at my indignation and lack of fear. Meanwhile, I was beginning to grin wildly. "That's right…you can't shoot me, bitch. You couldn't even kill me the first time properly. How hard could it be to murder someone in an alley? You must be an amateur at it because you fucked it all up."

"Be quiet!" Vhen yelled. "You will not have the final word in this, human!"

"But I will!" I laughed hysterically. "You think I'm going to plead for mercy? No, I'm not giving you the satisfaction. Instead, I think that I'm going to slit your throat and watch you die. Can you top that as a final word?"

Vhen looked deathly afraid. No wonder, between my red-faced expression and contorted mouth, I must have looked positively frightening. "Stay where you are-,"

"Or what, tough guy? You're going to shoot me? That's certainly original. You couldn't leave well enough alone, though, and now you're going to pay the price. And that price is me _stringing your guts up all over this road for everyone to see!_ "

"Damn it, enough!"

"I told you before, dickhead, I'm the fucking Energizer bunny! I _win_ , motherfucker! You lose! I'll just keep coming back to torment you, Captain Blowhard! I'll just keep coming, and coming, and coming-,"

" _Aaargh!_ " Vhen bellowed, shuffling back a step. " _SHUT UP!_ "

Just then, one of the loose bricks from the catwalk above us chose that particular time to hurtle down towards the ground. Vhen having moved a bit beforehand, was now right underneath the brick's path. The block smashed into the quarian's shoulder, sending him spinning to the side. As he howled in pain, his finger clenched on the trigger, sending a bullet careening right towards me after a fiery flower bloomed from the barrel of his weapon.

" _Ow!_ _Shit!_ " I yelled as I felt a searing pain along my left arm. My eardrums pulsed from the blast's concussion. I fell down to the ground, clutching the wounded area and hissed as a burning sensation started to impart itself onto me, bringing tears to my eyes. I touched the wound and my fingertips came away red with blood.

Already this had gotten off to a rousing start, hadn't it?

Well, I would have liked it if I had been sent to a parallel universe where I would have not gotten shot at all, but I suppose that this would have to do. I mean, I was not dead yet. Besides, I quickly realized that Vhen's bullet only grazed me, just skimming along the flesh and outer muscle layer of my arm. No severe damage whatsoever. My shields had deflected the worst of the impact anyway. The cut hurt like a son of a bitch and it was bleeding profusely, but I still retained full function of my limb and nothing major was damaged.

Meanwhile, Vhen had dropped to a knee, a hand clutching his shoulder. Impact from a brick falling onto him like that, I suspected that he might have broken his collarbone. The arm that held the pistol hung limply, probably dislocated from the brick landing on his socket. The quarian was tearfully cursing as he fumbled at his arm, almost as if he was begging for his wounded limb to work properly. Seizing my chance, I stumbled back to my feet, my accumulated injuries causing me to feel slightly woozy but I did not fall. I drew from my anger, drowning out the pain. This bastard lost all his chances with that last action. He needed to die, now.

And then, just over the next rise of rubble, Nya emerged with her enormous rifle in her hands, steel in her gaze. " _Vhen, stop!_ " she screamed as she pointed the gun in his direction. I gave a huff of victory. The day was won.

We caught each other's eyes and I knew, just out of instinct, that Nya was smiling. I gave a lopsided grin, tainted a bit by pain. Oh, how I wanted to be in her arms again, to just throw everything else aside and selfishly flee together to be alone. Definitely worth dying once for, in my opinion.

Out of nowhere, whether by accident or done deliberately, the pistol in Vhen's hand suddenly went off, sending a bullet searing across the tattered landscape, causing me to jump. I could only watch in horror as the round sailed down the boulevard, a lone spark in the eternal night, only to terminate in the middle of Nya's chest. She crumpled with a faint cry.

Nya fell very still.

" _NO!_ " Vhen and I screamed at the same time. The man looked down at his pistol in complete shock, eyelids drooping tiredly. "No…how could I…I didn't want to-,"

He never got the chance to complete his sentence because I found my second wind all at once and charged him with a primal scream of rage. I bodily slammed into him with all of the speed that my legs could allow and the force was so great that it sent the two of us crashing through the tall windows of a nearby speakeasy. Tiny shards of glass sliced my skin, a dozen micro-cuts beginning to weep blood, warm and wet. Still bellowing and with glass continuing to rain down near my head, I finished my tackle a bit prematurely than I would have liked because Vhen's back had been firmly pushed into the counter, emptying the air in his lungs with a _whoompf!_

As the quarian doubled over, gasping for breath, I grabbed at his helmeted head, holding it in place for me to hit him full on with my fist. We both screamed at the same time. Him from being hit, and me for injuring my hand upon his helmet. Punching metal is not the same as punching flesh, I learned rather quickly. At least Vhen had it worse than me, given that he was thrown to the floor from my punch's kinetic energy.

Was I done? Not by a long shot.

Vhen was struggling to rise, his arm carrying the pistol beginning to point in my direction. Growling like a maniac, I jumped on Vhen and grabbed at the gun as well. Vhen struggled, but he was comparatively weaker than me, despite his military training. My natural human form simply had more muscle mass that I could utilize than he did. Basically it was like I was pulling on a twig – there was not that much resistance.

I gave my body a wrench and the pistol snapped out of Vhen's hand with a sickening crack. Based on the way Vhen was screaming and he was clutching his arm, his wrist was probably broken in addition to it being dislocated. Quickly, I thumbed the thermal clip release on the pistol before I chucked it out of a nearby window, smashing the glass as I did so with an unnecessary flourish.

Vhen used that moment to attempt to scamper away, but I cornered him near the pool tables and grabbed a pool cue, raising it like a baseball bat. Vhen saw the weapon in my hands and froze in place.

"I didn't mean to shoot her!" he screamed defensively. "It was an accident!"

"Oh yeah?!" I shouted. "Well, this is completely _deliberate!_ "

With that, I slammed the cue down upon Vhen's head, snapping it in two. The quarian staggered, momentarily dazed. I scooped up a pool ball from the table and hurled the hefty object savagely. The ball hit Vhen dead center upon his visor, the tempered glass creaking from the impact. Jabbing at Vhen with the broken cue, a deadly point now formed from the splintered wood, I forced him back towards the counter before I got impatient and decided to take a more hands-on approach.

"You shot Nya!" I roared as I hoisted Vhen up by the straps of his enviro-suit. "You shot me! I'm going to kill you for that, you fuck!"

In response, Vhen tried to surprise me with a jab to the throat, but his blow was slow and limp, still weakened from my previous assault. His resistance just made me angrier and I proceeded to lay into him with all the strength that I could possibly draw from every single strand of muscle in my body. I pushed myself beyond all reason; spittle flew from my mouth as I sank my fist into his body again…and again…and again. Pretty soon, Vhen could no longer offer up a defense for my attacks. I just continued, red clouding my vision.

The first hit…felt good. My knuckles definitely were angered from the impact through. Still, it was unexpectedly rewarding to see this coward buckle at my blows.

The second hit…continued to produce satisfaction, although it still hurt my hand to punch at such a velocity. It was hurting him more than me, I knew, so I kept at it no matter how pulverized my hand bones would be by the end.

The sixth hit…felt a little dulled. My fists were beginning to get used to the sensation of punching against a bony body and although they had been turned into hamburger from all of the sharp edges on Vhen's suit, I was starting to pay my injuries no heed. Even as my blood began to splotch over the man, I still found the energy to continue.

By the fifteenth hit…I could no longer feel my hands. Vhen was not even fighting back as he was completely overpowered. He had no chance to use his stamina while I was consistently being recharged from the satisfaction of brutally pounding this man into a pulp. After one particularly sharp blow to the chest there was a slight give – I might have broken a rib in Vhen's body. Oh, wouldn't it be lovely if he punctured a lung on that broken rib and died choking on his own blood?

That would have been Nya's fate years ago. Lying in that alley…all alone. Nya…my god.

My rage rejuvenated at the thought of Nya, and completely ignoring the commotion outside from the war and all that, I must have increased the strength of my blows twofold, hellfire spewing from my mouth in the form of all the curses in my vocabulary. Vhen gagged and finally raised his arms to ward me off, or perhaps it was a pitiful plea for mercy.

Whatever the case, it would not work.

" _You – hurt – Nya – you – fucking – bastard!_ " I screamed in between blows. I grabbed an empty beer bottle that had been left behind on the counter and smashed it over Vhen's head. Glass flew everywhere in sparkling brown shards and the quarian sagged to the ground, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

"P-Please…" Vhen coughed raggedly, his limbs trembling heavily as he shook in a puddle of his own sweat. He lifted his head up to look me in the eye and I could see that a jagged crack ran across his pea-green visor. His eyes were wide behind it, like they were worried that the surface could give and slice open his face along with a rush of cold, germ-laden, London air.

"Please what?" I snarled mockingly as I raised my bloodied fist menacingly. "Please don't hit me? Please don't kill me? Like you granted mercy to me? Like you granted mercy to _her?_ "

Before the battered quarian could form a sufficient reply to my anger-laden diatribe, I grabbed at the man's shoulders and, straining my arms to the limit, whirled and practically _threw_ Vhen out another one of the tavern's as-of-yet unbroken windows. By the time the glass finished falling from the panes, Vhen was rolling around back on the street of the shelled neighborhood while I was striding through the threshold from which the quarian had just been ejected out of.

Vhen's pistol was laying just outside when I stepped back outside, resting on the gritty sidewalk from where I had thrown it. I quickly hurried over to pick it up before anyone else did, but that was a fruitless gesture seeing as Vhen was so banged up he had trouble rising to his feet. No longer was I approaching him to attack with my fists or feet, but instead I slowly began to walk in a circle around him like a lion stalking its prey. My hand that held the pistol hung loosely by my side, not pointing directly at Vhen…yet.

"Just…" Vhen begged. "Just do it."

"Do what?" came my quiet whisper.

Vhen looked up at me, eyes wide and terrified. I could have sworn that there was a hissing noise coming from his suit. A torn hose or a breach, maybe. "Kill me. Just kill me." He gave a watery cough. "I…I shot her. I attacked her. I can't face her ever again. Just end it for me. Please…kill me!"

For what seemed like the longest time, I did nothing. I was panting hard, my shoulder, face and hands were bleeding profusely, but I was the one standing at the end. Vhen, this broken, pathetic creature was begging for his life to end at _my_ hands. Gone was the man who wasted no chance to annoy or obstruct me whenever something good came into my life. He indirectly brought me here so in a sense, he caused all this.

How I've waited for this moment.

I raised the pistol, easily aiming it at the spot between his glowing eyes. "I'll admit," I said. "I've wanted to kill you for so long..." The quarian gave a shudder at my words and clamped his eyes shut, just waiting for the boom. I was not about to let him get off so easily, so I let him tremble violently for the next few moments, savoring his fear.

The enjoyment in his despair soon faded and I grew impatient. Where was the satisfaction in this? Was watching a man soil himself in fear supposed to feel this terrible? This was _distressing_ , not enjoyable. As soon as Vhen started to rock back and forth on his haunches, I finally cracked. Tensing myself, I gave a sigh so minute that Vhen would not be able to detect it, silently wondering to myself if I was going to either be relieved at my next decision or regret it for the rest of my life.

" _Another Sam will do what I could not_ ," I mused to myself, knowing that I was in on the punchline to the greatest joke of the cosmos.

Turning the gun over in my hand, I threw it down for it to rest at Vhen's legs, leaving the weapon to clatter over the cracked pavement.

Vhen timidly opened his eyes and began to repeatedly look from the pistol that was now within arm's reach, then to me, then back to the pistol, then back to me. Incredulous, he began searching my face for clues, but all he got was my marble gaze of disgust in his direction.

"This is the difference between us, Vhen," I hissed as I pointed an accusatory finger straight at his chest. "You were given so many chances to be the better person, but you squandered every single one because of your selfish interests. You were prepared to do anything in order to get your way. And I? I'm no saint, but I was easily the better man when compared to you because I had a sense of decency. Your actions were not deserving of someone your age. No, they were the actions of not an adult, but of a _child_."

Vhen said nothing but clutch at his ribs, grunting in pain when pressure was applied.

Wincing from my shoulder wound, I continued. "I'm tired of this conflict between us, Vhen. If there is any sort of intelligence locked away in that skull of yours, if you are willing to actually be a man, you'll give up this childish attitude. I won't kill you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I've never killed a sentient being before and I don't intend to start now. Please, Vhen. Be the better man that you deserve to be."

I'd like to think that I saw something register in Vhen's gaze, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. Truly, I prayed that he would just walk away, lick his wounds, and learn from this experience. Right there, I thought that I had won this battle for good, the loser limping home a changed man. I just wanted this to be over.

Leaning forward with an unexpected surge of energy, Vhen swiped the pistol from the ground and pointed it up at me from the ground. I backed up a step, surprised. My arms raised midway in a gesture of surrender, but Vhen seemed poised to kill, not at all swayed.

"I will not be condescended," Vhen uttered raggedly. "Especially by you. If you don't have the strength to kill, you're even weaker than I thought. Besides, who cares about being the better man…if you're dead?"

His finger clenched but I did not flinch. I did not blink, even. Rather, I stayed where I was, calm and collected, already anticipating the coming explosion.

 _Click_.

…Or rather, the lack thereof.

With a grunt of frustration, Vhen looked down at his pistol after noting that nothing had happened when he pulled the trigger. No sound, no bullet, no boom. He attempted to fire the weapon several times but all he got were empty clicks from the chamber.

"What the-?"

"Looking for this?" I asked in amusement as I procured a thermal clip from my inner jacket pocket, the same one that I had ejected from his gun before throwing it out. "You thought I was that fucking stupid to give you a gun that could be fired?"

Vhen gaped at the thermal clip in my hand and slowly looked down at the useless gun in his hands, beginning to put two and two together. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, grinding together as he contemplated his next move. I could not resist letting out a little smirk at his despair. For being a person so sure that I had the upper hand for everything in the last few moments, I probably had gotten a little too cocky at this point and was going to pay the price.

Howling in fury, Vhen sprung to his feet, his previous injuries forgotten, and rushed me as he yanked his boot knife free. Now confronted by a lunatic with a blade, I backed up even more, my arm still outstretched. With a furious swipe, Vhen's knife sang just inches away from me.

There was a brief sensation of cold metal across my wrist, almost like a tickle, so slight that I thought nothing of it for the first few seconds. Imagine my surprise when I saw my left hand drop completely away from my wrist, severed in a clean cut.

The both of us stared at the stump of my hand, completely frozen in shock. I don't think that Vhen expected to land a hit, let alone slice my hand off. In comparison, I was unnerved at how calm I was while looking at the gushing blood from where my limb had been cut off. The odd thing about it was that there was little pain – either from shock via the body numbing the damaged area or the medi-gel that my combat armor was automatically applying around the wound, cauterizing it and stemming the flow of blood. It was weird that I had felt almost nothing when my hand had been cut – that blade was meant to slice through synthetic armor so flesh was most likely butter against its razor edge.

Despite there being little agony, there was some discomfort from how strongly the stump was throbbing. I moaned out, more from the shock of losing a limb than from being in pain, and sank to my knees, clutching the affected site and squeezing it to halt the steadily uncomfortable sensations. The initial arc of blood had sprayed all over the pavement, turning it dark, and I saw my severed limb lying on the ground just a couple feet away, blood oozing out from the stump.

No…how could this happen? I couldn't lose – not now! Nya, my love…I'm so sorry.

"No snarky quip this time?" Vhen panted as he flipped his bloodstained knife in a backwards grip, preparing to shove it down into my neck as he stood over me. "I always knew you were pathetic."

Taking a sharp breath, Vhen lifted the knife higher, savoring the moment. I was about to scream out in denial, my life poised to flash before my eyes.

Then a resounding blast split the world in two, the noise so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. My heart pounded out of my chest and I let out an involuntary yelp of fear.

That was when everything changed in front of me.

One moment Vhen was towering over me, his eyes wild as he was about to go for the kill, but in the next moment he was flying backwards in a cloud of blood and chunks of flesh, his knife falling from his grip. In the blink of an eye, the quarian was lying on his back, an enormous hole now where his stomach should have been. Blood pumped out from the gaping wound as the man began to wheeze in pain, his movements sluggish. Oddly, my first thought was not towards Vhen's immediate injury but to the fact that his suit was breached – torn wide open from whatever had slammed into him. It then hit me that Vhen was going to die.

The nearby clatter of rocks on pavement nearly sent me scrambling for cover, thinking that an enemy was nearby, but all my worries were allayed as soon as I spotted the person heading midway up the slope, gigantic rifle in their hands. Smoke wisped from the hot barrel, the condensation hissing as it was boiled away. I could not help but beam in a mix of desperate relief, tears springing up from my eyes and beginning to trickle down my face.

"Nya…" I croaked as the woman began to walk towards me as she cradled her rifle, tall and confident. It almost seemed like a parody with explosions off in the distance silhouetting her against the contrasting night and day, but it only enhanced the raw beauty of the moment. If this was another hallucination, it was certainly not a bad one. "Thank god…"

"Sam…" I heard her gasp out, her eyes softening as she spied me rolling pathetically around on the ground. But her gaze turned fierce when she saw Vhen writhing around a few feet away from me, clutching at his wound, blood spurting through his fingers. Quickly, Nya carelessly dropped her combat rifle and bent down only briefly to pluck her knife from its sheath before she ran over with a mighty determination.

I could not see much from my position, as there were a couple fallen pillars blocking my view, but I was able to watch as Nya swiftly knelt down to where Vhen was lying before she quickly plunged her knife into his body, the blade piercing his enviro-suit with ease. Vhen gurgled only once before Nya pulled her knife out, only to stick him again. Then she stabbed him another time. And another.

It got to the point where Nya was wildly jamming her blade into any part of Vhen that she could see, his blood quickly painting her suit as it geysered into the air. His arm, his guts, his lungs, his throat, all were punctured and minced from Nya's frenzied stabbing, but he had fallen still after only the third puncture. The inside of Vhen's visor was coated red, blood thrown up from his body hemorrhaging. His eyes were glazed over, limply staring up into the sky. I stared back at those eyes even if they were not returning my gaze.

I thought at how Vhen never stopped wanting to kill me, even when he had been offered an out so many times. Was he inherently rotten or had I really so deeply offended him that much that forgiving me was unthinkable in his eyes? I would most likely never understand his reasoning but it did not stop me from trying to put myself in his shoes, even as a pair of hands loosely gripped my shoulders, hauling me away from the grisly sight. I then realized that the mauling of Vhen had finally ended, his body practically unrecognizable at this point.

"Wait," I mumbled while in Nya's arms. I bent down briefly as we stumbled across the pavement. "Hold on a second."

Nya looked at the fleshy object that I had stopped to pick up. "Keelah, is that a _hand?_ "

"Well, yeah," I said thickly. "I'm not going to just leave it on the ground, am I?"

"Sam, why would you ever…" Nya began to say before she looked down and noticed that I was cradling my left arm rather suspiciously. " _SAM!_ " she suddenly shrieked as she finally discovered the extent of my injuries.

"What?" I answered in an innocent tone.

"Your hand! You're missing a hand!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," I drolly commented as I slipped my severed limb into an empty pocket for safekeeping. Ordinarily, handling body parts in such a careless manner and not in a sterilized environment would make me feel a little queasy, but I was all hopped up on medi-gel and painkillers. I had lost the ability to lose my stomach at this point. "Don't worry, it can be sewed back on very easily," I assured her. "I just need to….oh crap."

A bout of dizziness washed over me and I nearly lost my footing on the sidewalk, banging my knee as I went down. Damn it, shock or blood loss was now affecting me – one of the two. We needed to get off these streets because I was in no condition to fight anymore. My vision blurred and I struggled to rise back up, but my feet did not want to respond to my commands completely. It did not help that Nya was on the verge of tears, almost hysterical after realizing that I had been grievously wounded. Regaining her composure, she hoisted me up by my arms and quickly led me into an abandoned shop after kicking the locked door open. As a testament to her strength and will, Nya dragged me the last few meters across the carpet to the area behind the counter, gently depositing me in a position for me to rest my back comfortably. She collapsed across from me, both our breaths coming in deep pants.

While I grunted in relief from having to sit down, Nya quickly moved her position and sat beside me only to realize that looking over at me longingly was not going to calm her down in the slightest. Tenderly but forcefully, she maneuvered me so that my slumped body was resting against her while she, in turn, leaned back against the counter as she was sandwiched. We sat like this together, me sitting between her legs, my head lolling back onto her shoulder while her arms wrapped around me, holding me close like a beloved stuffed animal. Her fingers even began to pet me softly too, the passionate act relaxing me in this position.

From an outsider's perspective, it probably would have appeared odd that a one-handed human was resting against a bloodied quarian who was currently holding him in a firm embrace. In retrospect, appearances meant nothing to me anymore. I was here. I was alive. I was missing a hand, yes, but I was with Nya. That had been my goal, my last chance seized. That was all that mattered to me. I had won after all.

Nya squeezed my forearm in worry, shaking me from my slight delirium. Apparently I had been listless for a bit. "Hey. Stay with me. Please don't die on me, Sam."

"Die?" I coughed as I tried to laugh. "I'm not dying, woman. It's only a hand – although it's beginning to hurt like a son of a bitch. What about you? I saw you take that round back there and I thought…"

"…That a simple bullet could kill me?" Nya finished with some amusement. "Don't tell me that you forgot about my personal shields?"

"Oh yeah. I guess I did," I muttered sheepishly.

"I'm just bruised underneath. Probably have received some scratches on me too. I don't know what's taking so long but we'd better win this war soon. I have to say, I'm sick of fighting."

" _You're_ sick? _I'm_ the fish out of water here and look what price I had to pay for that," I waved my stump for a moment until an unpleasant twinge ran through it, dictating that I apply pressure to the affected area once more.

Shit, there was still the sensation that I had all my fingers. That phantom pain sure works fast. If I even tried to move my imaginary fingers, all that would produce was an electric jolt that twinged up and down my arm. Imaginary, yet at the same time real.

"Stop moving that limb," Nya chided in exasperation. "You're just going to damage it more."

"You a doctor now too?" I chuckled despite myself.

"Just be quiet if you're not going to be helpful."

"Yes, ma'am."

We waited a few more moments, both of us involuntarily flinching when a nearby explosion sounded. We held each other closer and closer, not saying anything that needed to be said at the moment.

Nya gave a sigh, breaking the silence. "Things are going to be different from now on, Sam."

"How so?"

"I'm going to be leaving the flotilla for good," she said after a solemn pause.

"What?" I asked as I lifted my head. This was news to me. "When did you come to that decision?"

"Just now," came her bitter reply. "It was something that has been a long time coming, I realized. We're both ostracized individuals, you and I, but I was more easily indoctrinated by the culture of my people. I thought that I could find redemption with them, but they only brought pain. I'm tired of letting my life be dictated by a group of morons. I was a fool to think that I could fit in with the people who posthumously disgraced my father, exiled my mother, and allowed for a culture of xenophobia so great that it convinced one of my own that you should be killed just for loving me. I figure, screw them all. I'm going my way from now on."

"But…you wanted to be a pilot. Once you leave the flotilla, there's no going back."

"I'll find a piloting job easy. Who says that I have to work strictly for the flotilla? There's bound to be a surplus of openings after all this. After all, it's not like anyone can afford to be discriminatory against any of the races anymore."

"True, true," I nodded sagely. "You have a plan for housing? Now that you…uh, are leaving the flotilla, you technically are not going to have a home anymore."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that."

I sensed an opening as well as an unsaid request, so my eyebrows perked up in interest. "Well, in lieu of having to go through the troublesome matter of finding a place to call your own by yourself, I'd really like it if…you would consider moving in with me." There was a noticeable pause, allowing me time to wet my lips so that my voice would not crack. "I don't want you around to purely for you to share the rental costs with me, that's most assuredly not the reason. I'm asking because…I want to be closer to you. I'm tired of having to go months at a time of not seeing you; it's exhausting to me. I love you and I would be so happy if you decided to live with me so that I could see you every day. I…there's not much upkeep living with me and all the utilities and rent will be paid off. In fact, there's-,"

"Yes," Nya said, mercifully cutting me off so that I would not have to ramble any more.

"Y-Yes?" I repeated cautiously, wanting to make sure that I had heard her right.

"I said yes, idiot," Nya nuzzled my head and squeezed me tighter in her hug. "Of course I would love to live with you." She gave a slight chuckle. "Did you really think that I was going to say no to something like that?"

"You never know, considering the luck I've had on average."

Nya's fingers came against my cheek in what could technically be called a slap, albeit it was the barest definition of one that I had ever felt. "You're impossible, you know that?"

I grinned. "Impossible enough to not want to live with me?"

"Like that's going to happen."

"Hah," I breathed out, lolling me head back onto Nya, my eyes closing peacefully. My grin faded to a small smile and the both of us sighed at the same time, each appreciating the intimate setting and the overall quiet – free from the madness of chaos and noise outside. Numbness creeping up on me, I felt my consciousness slipping away like sleep threatening to encroach upon my borders. "Everything I want is right here with me," I noted aloud, my spirit reaching into the heavens. Nya gave a tiny murmur of contentment, also feeling the allure of sleep.

The minutes slipped by but to us they felt like nothing. The two of us were still locked in our awkward embrace, each holding onto the other in some way when the final burst of light, emitted from the very sky itself, began to wash over the city. The illumination seared through the streets, spread through the alleys, and penetrated every crack and orifice in the shattered buildings. All through the while, neither of us reacted to the quickly brightening night immediately, simply too comfortable to move to another place. It was only when the howling noise picked up were we finally alerted, our gazes naturally drawn to the astonishing sight brimming outside.

Right when it was too late, our panicked yells, uttering our love for the other, were drowned up by the din – a frantic, whining cacophony that was as eerie as it was soothing. Static crackled and my hair began to stand on end from the increasing charge in the air. Our grip tightened and we screwed our eyes shut as a burst of wind found its way into the shop that we had taken refuge in. While the gusts tore at our bodies, we took comfort in the presence of the other, our anguish swiftly diminishing as we told ourselves that everything would be all right.

The light found us, and sparing nary a moment, consumed us whole.

* * *

 **A/N: Only one more chapter to go. You all have my profound thanks for sticking with the story this far and I hope that the ride has been enjoyable at the very least.**


	24. Chapter 24: Spur - Calm

No, we did not die.

Trust me, I've done it two times already and that's two times too many. Throwing in a third time would just be ridiculous and excessive.

When the bright red light had swept over us during that lull in the fighting, the endless night of smoke and flame had finally become quiet. Yet we had not been harmed from the shockwave – aside from the injuries we had already accumulated – and we realized almost immediately that we were still alive, much to our joy. Instinctively, I had known what had happened then. Shepard had activated the Crucible and destroyed the Reapers, ending the cycles and bringing peace to the galaxy.

The war was over. We had finally won.

At the time, Nya was struggling to believe that over a year of fighting, with death practically looming over the horizon, had all come to an end in our favor. The two of us – alive – and no longer separated from each other, now had nothing to worry about in the immediate future. We had our whole lives to figure out, now that one narrative had come to a close. That story was finished, but a new one was about to begin.

As we hobbled to the nearest forward operating base, it was plain to see that Shepard had chosen to destroy the Reapers rather than control them, or subjugate everyone to that odd synthesis concept that still did not make a lick of sense. I preferred my DNA the way it already was, thank you. The monstrous titans, once looming over the skyline, were now crumpled on their sides, no more light coming from their oculi. Their demonic foot soldiers had vanished, blasted into dust from the energy of the Crucible. They had all vanished without a trace, like we had been fighting shadows all along.

To be honest, we glossed over the whole first moments of celebrating the end of the war because we were simply too banged up to even consider the notion of rejoicing. Nya was nursing some injuries that her suit was doing a good job of hiding and I was sans a hand, although the bleeding had long been stabilized. To say that we were in a bad way was putting it mildly.

It took us fifteen minutes to even find a place full of living beings and they did a handy job in carting us over to the nearest medical station once they saw the states that we were in. Time was a blur after that as it felt like I was being settled in a bed in no time, with Nya reclining on a seat next to me, the wavy white fabric of a medical tent glowing from the morning sun all around us. Then there was a prick as a medic inserted an IV line into my arm and I went out like a light as the sedatives hit my bloodstream.

By the time I awoke, I was greeted by the sight of a smiling asari medic as well as Nya sitting in a chair next to the bench I had been resting on. We were still underneath the medical tent, but it was now bright outside – the middle of the day. I had apparently been out for six hours while a team of doctors worked to repair the damage done to my hand. Thankfully, it had been a clean cut and because I had had the foresight to schlep my severed limb along with me meant that a decent repair was pretty much guaranteed.

The hand had been expertly reattached to my body, the cut itself diminished from a laser scalpel to reduce scarring. When the nurse instructed me to make a fist with my hand, with an anxious Nya watching, I was able to twitch my fingers into a tight little ball after a few seconds of nothing happening. To my dismay, I was then told that there had been some irreparable nerve damage done when my hand had been severed that the doctors could not fix. My left hand would be more unwieldy than it was before and very stiff for the first couple years. The nurse mentioned that the side effects could be diminished to almost nothing through therapy, to my relief. Despite only having one hand for less than a day, I had begun to weep openly then and there because I knew that I did not want to know a life with one less limb. I was just grateful that I would not be handicapped for the rest of my life and all of my emotions started pouring out of me at the news.

Nya had not been as badly injured as I was, but she also had been running dire problems of her own that I had not been aware of. Apparently, throughout the fighting, she had managed to break three ribs, crack her tibia, gain a concussion, all while sporting a fever of over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. When I was told the extent of her injuries, my mouth must have dropped about a meter. By all rights, she should have been dead, but thanks to the power of modern medicine (medi-gel and an enormous amount of medicine), she was sitting by my side, bright, chipper and alive. The only evidence that she was still ill of any sort was the slight congestion in her voice when she spoke. Bet I know how she got _that_.

Due to my injuries, I was exempt from helping out with the local reconstruction crew that had sprouted up from a cadre of volunteers in the area. This aggrieved me, because I did not want to sit around on my ass all day, I wanted to help! Unfortunately, the current range of motion in my hand meant that I could not help out with the crews cleaning up the streets, nor could I lend my services as a doctor. They needed people with steady and precise hands for that kind of job, and mine were not either of the sort.

Forced to remain bedridden for the first week, I sunk into a minor depression. I hated feeling like I was a burden or a leech siphoning off the services of the tireless people running this clinic. I could have gotten up and left if I wanted to, but I could not actually perform anything that I thought was helpful at all!

My state of mind would have worsened if it had not been for two things. The first was the appearance of Commander Shepard himself, visiting the wounded of his own volition. It was nice to see the famed war hero (and former character that I had controlled) walk amongst us and offer his sympathies and support. His new fiancée joined him (an event that had been televised yesterday depicting the commander's tearful yet joyful proposal) and she was also talking to various soldiers and socializing. A couple people were scratching their heads at the decision for Shepard to propose to a quarian, but I knew better out of all of them that Shepard deserved to be with anyone he wanted. Plus, I could understand the allure. For a hard-working soldier like him, it was something he had deserved for years now.

It was a bit odd to see that Shepard was upright and walking not even two days after the war had ended, considering that I had my own preconceived notion of how the games actually concluded, but there was that little fact that I had knocked Harbinger over with a Thanix missile, thus sparing the commander from getting blasted from a giant laser and becoming physically impeded. Ostensibly, he had been in good enough health to make it to the Crucible with his crew and was able leave after activating it before things got too hairy up there. Him being alive and healthy would probably have major repercussions on the story going forth, but seeing as how I knew basically nothing about the narrative after this point, I could not care less. What was done was done, and trying to change the past was an exercise in futility.

The second thing that helped me out with my depression was simply the presence of Nya. Although she healed from her injuries in practically the blink of an eye, she would be near me whenever I seemed to be in the worst of moods. It was like she had a sixth sense for this sort of thing. Just one look at her and everything would calm down immensely for me. Nya helped out with the reconstruction crews for a few hours a day, but she was always there to watch me during my self-therapy, uttering encouraging words the entire time as I sweated to gain back my normal range of motion in my hand. Without her support, I will admit that I would just be a complete basket case. It would have been back to square one for me, yet her strengthening existence gave me the energy to look forward to each new day.

She was the reason I was still alive now.

The icing on the cake, however, was when I was finally allowed to leave the tent, having been healed just enough for them to discharge me and focus on other patients that were more wounded than I was. By that point, I had determined that I could help out in some fashion at the clinics after all by working as a consultant and advisor on how to treat various injuries to some of the less experienced staff on call. The pay was nonexistent but at least it would give me the sense that I was not wasting my life. I felt that I had to give back in some fashion and if my services were requested then I would happily answer. Good for the soul, my spiritual self would comment.

But before any of that could happen, on the day that I was released, the very moment in fact, Nya had led me back down to the Underground, whereupon after a cleansing shower and finding a suitable isolation tent, we promptly made love again. Despite the fact that our bodies were bloodied, bruised, and bandaged, we engaged in some of the most passionate intercourse that we ever had. Overcome with desire, we fell into an embrace practiced amongst multiple races over thousands of years, seeking comfort in the arms of another.

I will admit that _about-to-die_ sex is good and all, but truthfully, nothing can beat _so-glad-to-be-alive_ sex. The complete lack of pressure and contagious relief was a key factor in our enjoyment as well as the fact that the mood was much less dour. Our slow pace probably helped too, but it was out of necessity for if we had just gone at it, we probably would have just hurt ourselves even more due to our rather shocking injuries. Nya would get sick once again after doing this, but she was already starting to adapt to my germs that it was not so life-threatening anymore.

We fell into this routine for the next few weeks. Work on the weekdays, sex on the weekends, repeat. Nya would help out the crews, I would help out the doctors. Everyone was happy. People were beginning to find hope amongst the rubble. The spirits of the galaxy were running high. I guess _we_ were the Greatest Generation now. Who woulda thunk?

The best part about it was, that once the debris had finally been cleared from the Citadel, I was allowed to return home, back to my apartment. Nya moved in with me like she said she would, bringing with her little in the way of possessions. Ever since then, I could nary recall a time when I was not unhappy.

I guess I had finally achieved that normalcy after all.

* * *

Months after the war ended across the galaxy, my life had once again fallen into a routine. Get up, eat breakfast, go to my medical consultant job at the hospital, and come back home again. It may have been back to the way things were for me, yet I was fine with this because the apartment was my man-cave no longer. Things had become a lot more _social_ as of late.

Nya adjusted to living in the apartment very quickly, loving every aspect of her new home. No longer tied down to a crammed bunk bed on an aging ship, for the first few weeks she had been astounded at the luxuries that she had not been able to access before. Of course, when one considers a coffee maker to be a luxury, that is when you know that something is really wrong. It made me happy to see her so comfortable, which is what I was aiming for when I had asked her to live with me. If her fleet could not give Nya the amenities and respect she deserved, then someone had to step up to the plate and I was more than willing to do so. Besides, I wanted her company around. She made my life much less lonely that way.

Strangely enough, like Nya had said, she was able to find a job just like that, literally within the first month of the war ending. Due to a deficiency of able-bodied workers on the Citadel, no one was willing to discriminate against quarians, especially the security force, and Nya had been locked in to be a trainee pilot for C-Sec's year long course. Apparently she was one out of a dozen trainees that were slated to be C-Sec's first quarian officers over the station, which showed just how much racism had died down as of late. As far as the training was going, Nya was acing all her courses, bringing back passing grade after passing grade each night. She was trying so hard and it was terrific to see how her dedication was being rewarded. I was monumentally proud of her and I made sure to throw all of my support behind her new career decision. I just knew that she was going to do C-Sec justice in the future one day and become the best damn pilot they had.

Categorically, we very well fit the mold of a working pair. We departed in the mornings for work and reunited in the evenings, describing our days over meals. There was a certain serenity to all of this, probably because the working life was much more preferable to getting shot at or having any limbs cut off. Less painful, too. This was the life that I had been chasing all this time, always out of reach but now I could finally grasp it. It was odd, feeling this content. Never before have I felt so relaxed.

Speaking of feeling content, that was definitely the mindset that I was in at this point in time. Right now, I was lying in my bed, the burgeoning hours of the morning approaching. Based on the glow of my clock that I could discern through my blurry eyes, it was still very early, in fact. Well, at least I was comfortable. Never again was I going to complain about the quality of a mattress ever again. Spend months on end stuffed into a sleeping bag on the cold and dusty ground and even the sofa of a red sand den would start to look like a fluffy cloud.

Oddly enough, I had not been roused purely because my natural sleep cycle decided it was time for me to wake, but it was from the soft sensations that occurred when the quarian lying next me would kiss my chest, unable to resist the action.

I guess I would consider that to be a perk, obviously.

Nya sleepily lay against me, her entire body pressed up against my side, one leg thrown over mine while her arm loosely wrapped around my front. She was naked, as was I, but that was to be expected after a night of rambunctious shenanigans. Her hair was falling down the side of her face, silky in the light. The dim illumination made it hard for me to discern Nya's gray skin against my pinkish flesh, but the three-fingered hands combined with her odd body contours gave her alienness away. Her eyes were closed, but she was definitely awake as she would intermittently press her lips against any of my skin within reach and kiss it, making soft noises as she did so.

This was simply adorable and too good for me to ruin, so I did what any man would do in that situation and simply faked being asleep, keeping one eye cracked open to watch. She was so passionate, so sweet, that she simply loved to impart affection onto me when we were together, especially when she was out of her suit. On nights like these, when we lay in bed together, she would always wrap herself around me, mentioning that she loved the feeling of hugging a warm body. This was understandable, seeing as if the same action was performed with her enviro-suit on, it would feel more impersonal, more sterile. This way, she got to really _feel_ for herself what skin was like and how good it felt to be touching another person this way.

I liked being her gateway to all of these new sensations for Nya. It made me feel like I was making a significant difference for the better in this woman's life. Witnessing her reactions to the unfamiliar was a journey that I would have given anything to replicate. In any case, I was not going to say no to naked cuddling. Who doesn't love naked cuddling?

Nya's quiet kisses lasted for a few more minutes, never noticing that I was, in fact, secretly awake. Eventually, she succumbed to sleep once more and passed out, resting her head on my chest. That was a thing with quarians, I learned. Their sleep cycles are drastically different than a humans; whereas a human would sleep for one sitting on average, a quarian tended to take several periods during the night when they would wake suddenly and then fall asleep. Sort of like how cats nap, but on a more intense scale.

Too cozy to even think about moving, I just lay there in my twilight state while Nya dozed right next to me. Her warm breath fluttered on my ear and her mouth was slight agape in the cutest expression of peacefulness that I had seen on her thus far. I cherished moments like these when I could look upon her face, knowing the dangers she was exhibiting herself to in order to do this. The good thing was that, after installing a more sophisticated air filtration system and with a few months of patience, Nya's immune system had adapted to the apartment enough that her reaction to being outside her suit here was nonexistent at best and a head cold at worst. There was still the danger of a severe allergic reaction on her end, but we pulled out all the stops to be as careful as possible, only taking risks when Nya was absolutely sure that they were worth the effort. She certainly did not waste any time in acclimating herself here, let me tell you.

The minutes zipped by until it reached the point where I figured that it was time to start getting ready. I still had a few hours left until I had to leave for the hospital but I liked to get a head start in the mornings. The only problem was getting untangled from Nya. It pained me to leave her in this state, knowing that she loved to sleep like this but I had to start getting myself prepared for work this morning.

Decisions, decisions.

With some difficulty, I managed to slide myself from Nya's body embrace. She did not wake, still too deep into REM sleep, but curled into a fetal position as all the warmth suddenly left her, uttering a whimper as she did so. That faint noise almost caused me to leap back into bed with her, but I restrained myself as I had another idea. Tiptoeing over to the bathroom, I closed the door so that I would not disturb her.

As I started to brush my teeth and arrange out my prescribed medications for the day, antirejection pills and antihistamines, I began to mull on a few things. It occurred to me that whenever Nya was outside her suit for a short period of time, she would invariably get extremely lustful, turned on from all the enhanced sensations on her hypersensitive skin. The stimulation would cause her hormones to start flowing, ultimately overpowering her to act on one of the most basic of animal needs. The empirical evidence would support this theory, because every single time she would shed her suit, things would quickly become hot and heavy for the two of us, with Nya seemingly unable to resist her inhibitions of passion. It was like a kind of high for her, this realm of sensitivity, teasing at all of the pleasures that had been locked away from her for years that she now had access to. In her mind, she might as well be subjugated to the most intense sensations that she could possibly have, which would lead us to our moments of coitus.

Personally, I was not surprised that she was having these kinds of reactions. After all, when she would take off her suit during the first few weeks, it was purely just to have sex. Then she started taking it off simply to spend more time outside it, taking advantage of her immune system as it steadily strengthened with each session. However, her intentions would predictably fall astray because eventually, being outside of her suit made Nya horny and that always led to us making love in whatever room we happened to inhabit at the time.

The thing was, it was hard to resist Nya when she was in such a state, because it was not like I got to see her unmasked all the time. It would be a week in between when her immune system would be recovered and I could see my girlfriend's face once more. Not so similar from dating a human, as it turned out. I'm pretty sure that the wait in between each period when Nya would remove her mask only deepened my desire for her because I wanted to look upon her gorgeous features that had been covered up for days, thus making the both of us amenable to powerful intimacy.

I mean…to see her features light up as she slowly pulled that blood-red visor off her helmet…to see that smile that had been invisible to me for a week… That kind of isolation could drive someone mad. I wanted to see her more. That's something you could never replicate with a human relationship; the sheer hunger between two individuals yearning to be together for even a fleeting moment – to _look at_ each other with unclouded eyes.

When Nya could reign in her raging emotions, which admittedly was no easy feat, we would attempt to do something outside of sex that could take advantage of Nya's suit-less state. We would cuddle on the couch watch a lot of programs on the vidscreen together, hang out around the apartment, and even munch on pizza (dextro-pizza for Nya) in the myriad post-coital moments. Basically attempt to do cute stuff that normal human couples did.

If we weren't having sex, we had to be clothed otherwise one of us was going to jump the other in mere moments. Somewhat thankfully, Nya had developed a penchant for pilfering my shirts and sweatpants (she refused to wear any tight clothing as it reminded her too much of her enviro-suit) to walk around the apartment in. I have to say that it's an odd sight to see an alien wear a shirt with your alma mater stamped across the front, but endearing nonetheless. My, how the times have changed.

Anyway, seeing Nya lying in the bed – so vulnerable looking without her suit – already made me start longing to be with her again. I walked over to the bed, but lifted up the cover on the other side, sliding my body underneath the sheets. Crawling up over her feet, I gently parted her legs, giving myself room to lower my head in between them, my mouth touching hot flesh in greeting.

I was slow, careful not to go too fast. My feet were sticking out on the other end of the bed and Nya's upper torso was on the opposite side. Covered by the sheets, it was starting to get a little hot under here for me, but that was entirely the point. The heat meant that I was doing a good job.

I played with Nya's body using my tongue, occasionally kissing where she was most sensitive. She had been quietly moaning for the first few minutes when I started, but now her legs were starting to undulate, her breathing gradually deepening. She was most definitely awake by now. The sheets were covering her expression from my gaze, but I could easily imagine the bliss on her face. It reminded me why I was down here in the first place: to make Nya happy.

To be honest, this kind of sexual activity brought on an increased risk to me from the ingestion of items not containing amino acids familiar to my digestive system. Which was fine as long as I medicated myself daily. Besides, doing this was a way for me to bring about those intense sensations of sexual pleasure to Nya, sensations that I _wanted_ to impart because I thought that she should have the chance to experience moments like this more often, especially now that she was out of her suit as of late. Altruism on my end, in a sense, because I felt good in helping her to get off. They say a good partnership needs some selflessness every once in a while, so one could say that I'm simply adhering to the script.

Nya's hands began to beat on the mattress and her toes were starting to curl. Signs that she was getting close and my cue to cease. Drawing away with a gasp, I started to move my mouth up on her body, kissing her toned abdomen to her quivering, soft belly, lingering there like a predator about to rip open its prey. My quick pecks were much less violent than the tearing of teeth, of course, and Nya's stomach vibrated as she giggled.

The heat was now starting to get a bit unbearable, so I got on my knees and unceremoniously grabbed at the sheets, throwing them off me and allowing much cooler air to assault my body. It had been a lot stuffier than I had expected in that bed. Now free, I finally got a good look at Nya's joyful face, as well as her bed-hair that lay in a tangled bunch on her pillow. Grinning like a nutcase, I resumed kissing her body, gently turning over so that she was lying on her stomach, my hands sliding up from the cheeks of her rear, to the sides of her breasts, and up to her shoulders, Nya shivering with every inch that I proceeded.

Eventually, I had made it to where I was at the same height as her head. Positioning her so that I was spooning her – she was the little spoon – my hands started to explore her taut and slim body now that we were practically so close we were melding together. If I had come from a family of traditionalists, they would have been appalled at this non-Christian behavior. Living in sin with an alien is something I don't think was covered in the Bible though, so I guess I can count that as a loophole.

My right hand – the one that was not as stiff - reached around and slid down between Nya's legs, making her mewl when it made contact. I began to work my fingers down there, causing the quarian in my arms to break out into heavy pants of lust.

"Good morning to you too," I whispered in her ear with a grin.

Nya laughed in between moans. "I think…that I could get used…to this kind of greeting."

"All entirely the point, dear. You comfortable?"

"Comfortable? Do…" Nya tried to croak out, "…is it _normal_ for humans to torture their partners like this?" She was referring to the way my hand was moving against her, of course, but she was obviously quite happy.

"Just the ones we love," I answered in a very mild-mannered way. "Why? You want me to truncate the foreplay in the future?"

"Oh no, I… _Keelah_ ," Nya gasped, her fingers bunching up the sheets. "It's just that…quarians are more direct with their lovemaking. You humans like to take your time. All this kissing and groping and touching. Nothing could compare. It's…it's unbelievable."

"Well, I'd imagine that quarian men are so eager to get it on that they can't hold back. Their lack of self-control makes things short, I guess. With humans, it's a little different."

To demonstrate, I increased the pressure that my hand was making on Nya, lovingly caressing her but making sure not to take her all the way. The quarian was writhing against me, mouth wide open in an expression of joy.

"I still think it's torture," she gritted out from her pleasure. "Why do you tease me so?"

I bumped my eyebrows up. "Because you look gorgeous when I do things like this to you, that's why."

"What? Does me being naked have something to do with it?"

"Perhaps. I can't deny that you have a very nice butt."

" _Just_ the butt?" Nya looked unimpressed through her haze.

I shrugged, my fingers continuing to rub Nya at their current tempo. She was grinding her hips into my palm, wanting the ecstasy that my digits could unlock for her.

"Make no mistake, you have more features that are pleasing to the eye," I continued with a wink.

Nya caught the tic and gave a sly grin, not so easy when I was working on getting her off. "This, without a doubt, has to be the worst start to our pillow talk that we've ever had."

"That's insulting, as I've always considered myself to be a cunning linguist," I joked.

Nya rolled her eyes at the pun and covered her face with her hands, her arousal plummeting. "Really?" she sighed, exasperated. " _That's_ the best you can do?"

"What? Cunning linguist? I could have sworn that I just proved that not five minutes ago."

"That joke was terrible, Sam," Nya's eyes offered no sympathy.

I laughed. "You just have no sense of humor."

"Punning is not equivalent to possessing what you consider to be a good sense of humor," Nya shook her head ever so slightly. "And with that, I don't think you deserve to be on this bed anymore."

"Wha-?" I only had time to utter out before Nya repositioned herself on the bed in the perfect position to plant a three-toed foot on my chest and pushed me off with a powerful leg. I toppled to the ground, baffled at what happened as well as from the sound of Nya's laughing. Well, two could play at this game.

I stood up from the ground, pretending to brush myself off, scowling at Nya, who was blushing fiercely and trying to hide her smiling face. Her body was tense, coiled as if about to strike in a bout of naked tussling. It would be a hot and erotic bout, sure, but it was something that guaranteed another loss for me, seeing as she was the more capable of the two of us, considering the physical condition she was in. Even with two good hands, there was no way I would be emerging the victor.

"If that's the way it's going to be…" I said lowly, keeping my voice husky.

"Yeah?" Nya beamed, ready to leap and join in a locked and passionate combat.

"…then I think…" I made every syllable count, "…that I'm going to take a shower."

Nya's face fell several inches. "Wh-What?" she pathetically whimpered out, not expecting that answer.

Cackling, I dashed into the bathroom, fleeing from Nya's presence. I then hurried over to the shower and turned it on, waiting outside the glass box for the water to get up to the perfect temperature. I knew that Nya would be disappointed from this course of action. I had made her all hot and bothered from the foreplay earlier and pulling away would probably emphasize the empty feeling inside her tenfold due to her being a quarian. Oh, I could sense the sheer disappointment radiating from her in the other room.

Yet, I had a pretty good feeling of what was about to occur in the next few seconds. She was not going to take this lying down, no way. She had been denied her finish and she would not stop until it had been achieved. It was obvious that if I turned around in the next ten seconds, she would be standing in the doorway, desperate to continue. In three…two…one.

Sure enough, as I turned around, there was Nya standing in the doorway. Her knees were shaking something fierce and her face held a combination of lust and anger all perfectly combined on her features. She lowered herself lower to the ground like she was preparing to pounce and in spite of the danger, I chuckled.

"Well, well, well. I didn't think-,"

I didn't get to finish that sentence either, because Nya charged me right when I was in the middle of speaking. With a desirous growl, she crashed her lips against mine in a hard kiss, her hands grabbing the sides of my face before her arms slid around my neck lovingly. Her momentum caused us both to stumble into the running shower, and Nya shrieked with delight as the warm water splashed against her bare back.

We collapsed onto the onyx bench and Nya held my head for but a moment, allowing us just the right amount of time for our gazes to lock and see the desire and love we held for each other in them. Breathing through clenched teeth, Nya looked wild and I admit that I was very turned on from her forcefulness. My hands that were now sliding on the quarian's chest were not helping her self-control much, to be honest.

"You…" she growled, "…are not…going… _anywhere_."

And with that, our lips met once more, our tongues gliding out to dance while the shower rained all around us. Our gasps and grunts were drowned out by the noise of the water and the minutes slipped by like grains of sand in a clenched fist.

The glass windows of the shower began to fog up quicker than usual.

* * *

By the time we were done with the shower, we were so out of breath that we were sprawled out on the stone floor in a soaked mess. Getting ready for the day was not a quick endeavor either, as we kept interrupting the other in the middle of our respective chores to steal kisses from the other. It was bittersweet for the both of us because I knew that Nya was going to have to go back into her suit for at least another week. Perhaps one day, she might never need it anymore but until then, this was the way things simply had to be.

Putting on Nya's suit was something of a cherished ritual for the both of us. I helped apply the various layers very carefully to her body, holding them like they were as fragile and brittle as glass. Once she had slipped back into her suit, with all the odd straps and fabrics applied, I handed her back her visor, whereupon we shared one final kiss before she sealed herself away from me. After that, we hugged, which helped her mindset immensely because I knew that she got depressed whenever this moment arrived. The more physical contact she had, the better she felt. Seemed like a no-brainer to encourage this behavior of physical intimacy, from my point of view.

Finally, once we had finished with everything around the apartment, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways towards our jobs. Nya only had to walk for a few minutes to get to her local C-Sec office while I took the racing ship out to the other arm where the hospital was.

It was a slow day at the office. My hand was still not fully healed so I could still not do any actual surgeries, but I knew enough to be considered invaluable to the building and so I was given the job of being one of the head trainers and supervisors for the entire hospital. It also came with a pay raise too.

Today though, nothing of interest was going on with the group that I was overseeing, so it was pretty much a day of me filling out paperwork, playing a little table tennis with coworkers, and surfing the extranet in my spare time – of which I had plenty. Eventually, my eight hours were up and I left the office rather curtly, determined on getting back home as quickly as possible.

Racing back to the arm, I docked at a bay near the complex and picked up Nya, who had been waiting for me. Exchanging the usual greetings and anecdotes about how our day went, I angled the ship away from the Citadel and accelerated, causing it to dart downward towards the bright surface of Earth just a few ten thousand miles away. A ten minute flight, give or take.

Our idle conversations quickly peeled off as we descended to the planet's surface and they did not resume even after we touched boots on the ground. We walked away from the grounded ship, hand in hand, a bundle of white carnations in my free appendage, purchased beforehand on the Citadel.

It was both relieving and agonizing to be back on Earth so soon after the war ended, even more so now that the two of us were in the sunny town of Carmel again, my old home. It still felt like yesterday that I had been in this very area, talking to my sister, but I knew that I had not been to California physically in years. Yet how could I rationalize that little breach in reality – the whole conversation and the revelation of the separate timelines? It was enough to make one's head spin.

Nya sensed that something was wrong and squeezed my hand in assurance. My lips curved upward in a small smile, grateful for the gesture, and I returned the squeeze. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see that Nya was looking in all directions, curious to see the place that I had once called home. It was much better looking now that there was not a war tearing everything apart and I was glad that she had gotten the chance to see the human homeworld in all its glory.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the lush green park on the hill that overlooked the ocean, the surrounding mountains furry with pines, their sweet smell mixing with the salt of the sea. The oak tree in the center of the place was still standing, as was the marble headstone resting beneath it. As we approached, Nya's fingers gradually slipped from my grip. I stopped and looked at her but she just shook her head. She wanted me to do this by myself.

Tightly clutching the flowers now, I hesitantly approached the grave, but calmed myself by taking a few deep breaths. "TAYLOR MCLEOD," it still read, unmarred by any of the conflict that had cropped up, if it even had tarnished this place at all. I knelt down respectfully and laid the carnations at the base, patting the smooth headstone and finding it warm where the stray rays of sunlight had been hitting it.

"I know I said that I wouldn't be back here again," I whispered somewhat sheepishly. "I guess that makes me a liar. Somehow, I got proven wrong in the best way possible."

Chuckling to myself, I hung my head. "You would have been thirty years old today, Taylor. _Thirty_. Damn, knowing that I'm only a few years off just blows my mind. Next thing you know I'll be a curmudgeonly old fart in a wheelchair, snapping at anyone who tries to change the channel from my game shows. I mean, can you imagine _me_ in a nursing home, Taylor? I'd be a renter's goddamn _nightmare_ , I'd-,"

Realizing that my voice had raised higher than I would have liked, I stopped midsentence and bristled in embarrassment. "But that's not important right now. What's important at this moment is you. You were the best sister anyone could ask for. I would have given anything to spend more time with you. As far as I'm concerned, our little tête-à-tête a few months back doesn't count. That wasn't really you, but a projection of what I imagined you'd be like. Hell, I'd like to think that you would have been more sympathetic and less…expositional."

I looked back at Nya and saw her sitting on a bench, amiably looking up at the sky and the wildlife around her, intrigued by her surroundings. "I'm seeing someone now, Taylor," I spoke softly. "She's someone very special to me. I think that I'd like to stick with her for a while. Her name's Nyareth. You would definitely like her. I would have wanted you to meet her, if you had still been around." I then squinted my eyes mischievously at the headstone, imagining my sister's jubilant response. "You don't have to say 'I told you so,' but I just want you to know that I'm much happier than I was when I had been here the last time. Guess there was some good to be had out of this whole mess, eh?"

I blinked as my consciousness formulated words in my head akin to what my sister might say considering the circumstances. "Yes, definitely. Definitely," I nodded in agreement before I looked out to sea with a longing sigh. "You know, there's not a day that goes by that I don't miss you. The past few years have had a funny effect on me dealing with that, you know. I thought that no one could replace the hole you left in me, but I was dead wrong. As wrong as anyone could ever be, considering the state I was in, and I'm so glad that this happened to me."

With a knowing smile I stood and walked next to the headstone, looking at it appreciatively. "I just wanted you to know that things are looking up for me. Your little brother finally got his act together."

Looking out to the ocean, I took a deep breath, imagining the salty spray on my face. "I'll be back for your next birthday, Taylor. All this macho bullshit, it's over for me. I'm going to stay in this universe for as long as I can. It's something that I think you would have wanted. Besides…why would I waste a second chance like this?"

Nodding, I gave the headstone a final pat and departed from the shade of the oak tree. The sun beat down on me as the leaves ceased offering their protection and I held up a hand to protect my eyes. The warmth shed the chill that I had accumulated and I basked in the light, already feeling ten times better. Nya met me midway between the grave and the bench, her eyes glowing in my direction expectantly.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Huh?" I mumbled. "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

"How old would she have been today?"

"Thirty years. Almost twice as old as when she died."

Nya brushed my cheek with her hand, most likely giving me a smile under her visor. "I wish I had known her. Your sister, I mean. It seemed like you loved her a lot."

"I did. I really did."

"May I…" Nya fumbled. "May I say some words to her?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Of course you can say something," I blurted out. "Please. Go right ahead."

"I'll just be a minute," she said as she briskly walked over to where I had previously stood before.

I went on ahead to the park bench, knowing the need to give others privacy for moments like these. Nya had granted me this, so it was only fair that I return the favor. I have to admit, I was intrigued as to what she was saying, but I knew that such a conversation was never going to reach my ears. That was all up to Nya if she wanted me to be privy to this and I would not press her for it otherwise.

Still, it was extremely nice of her to pay her respects like this, especially since she had never met my sister in person before. I wondered if quarians treated their dead like we do, with the same reverence and solemnness. We had prayers for the dead, did the quarians have the same?

It just illustrated just how much I still had to learn about quarians, despite the amount of time I had spent around one. Their rituals, beliefs, and ceremonies were still so foreign to me. Did I fully grasp what I was getting into or could I count on myself to go forward with my eyes wide open? The answer was obvious: I was ready to go all in on this for there was nothing that I did not know that I was not afraid to learn.

Besides, with Nya as my guide to her world, I knew that I would be in good hands.

A shadow fell across me; it was Nya, having finished speaking. Without a word, I stood up and offered my hand, noting the tensed posture of the quarian in front of me. She accepted the appendage and we both proceeded to walk out of the graveyard together, our moods not exactly brightened but lifted spiritually. Our walk slowed to almost a crawl as we gravitated towards putting our arms around the other as we headed back to the ship, uttering a sigh that felt like it took ten pounds off our chests.

Our errand finished, we left the planet with our thoughts extending to realms beyond our existence. Perhaps, in another universe, we might have all had the chance to meet. How nice that would have been.

* * *

The evening rush hour had died down by the time we got back to the Citadel, which meant that there was no time wasted in getting the ship docked and powered down. Five minutes later, we were stepping back into the apartment silently, too drowsy to speak.

As I began to put away my jacket in the closet, Nya gave me a hug before she walked into the bedroom. I was about to follow her, but I then remembered that I was craving a drink as my throat was a bit parched. The doors of the kitchen cabinet flew open and I took out a bottle of vodka, coffee liqueur, and some heavy cream from the fridge. Preparing a bowler glass full of ice, I began to measure the ingredients carefully before I mixed them up in a shaker.

Pouring the chilling cocktail into the glass, I looked out towards the bedroom, where Nya ostensibly was. I sipped at the drink, the sweet taste of the cream managing to drown out the bite of the vodka. Perfectly portioned, just the way I liked it.

"Hey Nya?" I called out as I began rummaging around in one of the drawers. "I'm having a drink right now, did you want one?"

There was no answer, but I did not focus on that tidbit for now as I was now taking timid glances into the cutlery drawer where I was currently searching. Buried underneath the measuring cups I could spy a little box covered in blue velvet with a gold clasp adorning it. Nervously, I adjusted the box so that one of the cups was covering it completely before I slid the drawer shut, breath heavy in my throat.

Carrying my drink, I walked slowly over to the bedroom, taking quick sips as I proceeded. "You know, Nya," I continued to speak out, "I just wanted to tell you that I'm thankful that you wanted to come with me today. It really meant a lot to me and…and it helped. You have no idea how much it helped. Taylor would have really liked you. I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you for joining me."

I rounded the corner, allowing me access to the room. "Nya? Nya are you-…. _oh_."

Nya lay on her stomach atop the bed, snoring noises coming from her mouthpiece. Her eyes were closed behind the visor and I could see that her torso was moving from her lungs puffing in and out as she breathed, completely tuckered out.

For the longest time, I did not move, simply watching Nya sleep soundly and comfortably. I gave a quiet chuckle as I devoted this moment to memory. Seeing someone you love dozing and at their most peaceful is perhaps one of the best things a relationship has to offer. Whenever that happens, you get to see them when they have reached the limits of contentment, knowing that they put all their trust in you to sleep in your presence. I don't know why, but the thought almost made me tear up. And to think that I had been called a heartless bastard once.

I set my drink down on the nightstand, the little blue box already forgotten in my mind, and pulled the sheets and covers over Nya's still form. She uttered out a noise that sounded like a combination between a whimper and a sigh, one of her hands balling up into a limp fist. I patted the back of her head and backed out of the room after making sure that she was all tucked in, making sure to grab my drink.

Flicking off the lights to the room, I took one final glance backward, watching the quarian sleep some more. "Goodnight, Nya," I whispered softly into the room before I touched the door control, causing it to slide shut and let her rest continue undisturbed for the remainder of the night.

 _My friend…today has come to an end. But there will always be tomorrow. The strange thing is that I'm looking forward to it. We'll see each other soon._

* * *

 **A/N: And that, as they say, is that.  
**

 **Half a year ago (to the day, in fact) I started this fic with the intention for it to be a light deviation from my usual fare. Like I had mentioned before, _The Quantum Error_ was meant to be an experiment for me, to see if I could produce a story in a first-person perspective and to see if I could create an original character that I would not end up despising like some of my other works in the past. I figured that it would attract a niche audience, like my other stuff, and figured that it would be forgotten in the sea of submissions that grace this community.**

 **From the moment I posted the first chapter, I have to say, I was baffled at just how enthusiastic the reception has been. Today, it is now my most reviewed, most favorited, and most viewed story I've ever written. That's something that I was definitely not expecting to happen when I planned this out. I'm just so thankful to everyone who read the story and offered some insight on what I wrote. The feedback helped out a lot.**

 **Special thanks go to the individuals whose feedback helped me out immensely. Apologies to those that I forget to mention. These individuals include: XRaiderV1, pyrojack25, TheRangerBoy (the enthusiasm was infectious), Spiritstrike (the elaborate reviews were appreciated), The Blocked Writer (for providing me with a few ideas that I had not thought of yet), Squadpunk 2.0, and 5 Coloured Walker (for the constructive criticism).**

 **For most of the time when I was writing this, I had a comfortable schedule going on. However, when I started working full time midway through production, I realized that all the time that I started to set aside for writing took away time for me to do anything else. If you think that it's easy to balance work and a hobby like this, I'm just going to say that it is most certainly not and I have a newfound respect for the people that do this on a day to day basis. It's also helped me come to terms with an unfortunate fact.**

 **I've never intended to write for the next few years as I've been dreading this moment for a long time. I now realize that I cannot balance my work life and write without missing out on other aspects. I want more free time to do other projects and honestly, I think it's time for writing to take a back seat for a while. I've always enjoyed doing this as it's been quite a cathartic experience for me, but I can't keep this up forever. I'm just glad I held out to the point where I was able to finish this story, but I think that it's time for me to put myself in a state of semi-retirement. It's disappointing because I still have a few ideas that I would like to put to paper, but I don't know where I will be able to find the time to do so. I honestly believe that this is going to be the last story that I submit to the Mass Effect section, and if, for whatever reason, I do return it will be in a different section or perhaps I will write something in a more original format. But all that is quite a ways off.**

 **Besides, in all honesty, after the reception _The Quantum Error_ has received, I'm quite content with leaving on a high note. I'm happy that I was able to deliver a complete story and that a lot of people were able to enjoy it. You all were a wonderful audience to write for and I'm thankful that you read this story. It was a pleasure doing this.**

 **If you have any questions for me, I always respond to PMs. I would very much like to hear your thoughts regarding the story.**

 **Thank you all once again, and I hope you enjoyed _The Quantum Error_.**

 **-Rob Sears**

 **P.S. _The Quantum Error_ has sequels! That's right, this story is now a trilogy! You can read installments _Progeny_ and _Patriarch_ right now, as a matter of fact, and continue to explore the exploits of Sam and Nya!**


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